A Single Decision (Take Two)
by Timewatch
Summary: Aboard Invisible Hand, on that fateful day above Coruscant, Grievous makes a choice that causes a few little changes for the Separatists and Republic alike. [rewrite of a much older story]
1. Chapter 1: It All Begins

**A Brief Forward**

A long time ago, in the year of 2008, 15 year old Timewatch was definitely not happy with the new Star Wars: The Clone Wars show. I distinctly recalled that the opening scrawl of Revenge of the Sith had said there were heroes on both sides, but in this new media, only one side was being presented as legitimate, the other was being presented as irredeemably evil. Yes, we all knew Sidious was controlling both sides, but Lucas himself had wrote it was not a black and white conflict, Padme Amidala had wondered aloud if they were on the "wrong side." How could she say such a thing about the side that was murdering innocent townsfolk and looting planets like Hollywood Nazis, according to this new show? It didn't make sense. So during winter break of his first year in high school, I decided to give this scorned side the recognition they deserved. The best way to do this was to discard the powers behind everything and see what happened when the people who thought the conflict was real took charge. Sidious, Obi-Wan, and Anakin were killed off in the opening paragraphs, Dooku followed not much later, and things that were not well thought-out followed. Superweapons and fleets out of nowhere, weak motivations, seemingly unrelated plot-lines, Ahsoka being brutally murdered... It was a mess.

Not so long ago, during the winter break of 2014-2015, 21 year old Timewatch came back to the story and found it... lacking. After finishing up the Clone Wars show in a few days of binge-watching and some hardcore surfing of Wookieepedia, I came up with a much more narratively solid and slightly less biased story, sacrificing action for character development. Shout-out to Disney for gutting the EU and allowing me to take only good elements for my own use and disregard the shlock put out by writers who needed a paycheck and did the laziest, easiest thing they could. I resolved to have the first chapter of this revisited story posted "around" the time the seventh Star Wars movie came out. A year later, Timewatch delivers. At least I can rest easy knowing I came back to finish what I started seven years ago.

As always, copyright of characters, locations, and all other Star Wars related things goes to the rightful holders.

 **Chapter 1**

Everything was going to plan. Or at least, it had been.

It'd started with a feeling that something wasn't quite right. Dooku had predicted that the two Jedi heroes would board the _Invisible Hand_ and make to rescue their precious Chancellor, whereupon Dooku would defeat both Kenobi and Skywalker. Then came the holovised messages to crush Republic morale and perhaps even an execution or two, ending with total victory and a swift escape. Grievous though, had his doubts about the entire scheme. Dooku might have defeated them on a few occasions before, but he was only getting older as the years went by... With the Jedi desperate to rescue their previous Chancellor, they'd be fighting with more desperation than ever.

To think, even with that knowledge, Grievous had nearly kept himself on the bridge! That single decision to go up there might have won the war for him. _Might_ have.

Dooku had crushed Kenobi, just as planned, that was true enough. But young Skywalker had bested him, and direly wounded him, which was not as planned at all. When Grievous and his guard had strode out of the lift, the shock of the sight froze his boisterous greeting in his vocoder. The boy had his sabers at Dooku's throat, while the Chancellor looked on with vivid interest. They didn't notice him. "Do it!" hissed Palpatine, breaking the silence. Skywalker decapitated the Count.

 _He's dead!_ Grievous had thought in that moment, _Dooku is dead!_ What did he do now? What was Sidious going to do now?

"You did well, Anakin. He was too dangerous to be kept alive." Palpatine said, as Skywalker released him.

"Yes, but-" Palpatine's expression changed from relief to fury, and Skywalker whipped about. They had noticed his presence.

In his shock and confusion, Grievous fell back on what he knew best:

"Kill them!" he roared to his droids. Grievous shed his cloak, drew his sabers, and loped down the stairs. Skywalker rushed at him, there was a flurry of red and blue and green light, and then all faded to darkness.

"...sir? Sir?" a battle-droid tapped its hand on his facemask. "Are you alright- gah!"

Grievous blinked, looking into the red eyes of one of the magnaguards, who had pushed away the offending battle-droid. "It is done, General." the magnaguard said flatly.

"What..?" Grievous groaned, squinting in the light. He pushed himself off the floor, sitting up as best he could. His head spun, and he could not see clearly. "What is done?"

"We killed them, sir, just like you ordered!" a battle-droid announced proudly.

"Killed-?" Grievous looked down in front of him. There was Skywalker, riddled with blaster-marks. Over further was Palpatine, sprawled on the floor. "Just as I ordered..." Grievous muttered. Skywalker's anti-climactic demise was almost disappointing. "Not even a Jedi can block everything, it seems." Grievous said. He tried to stand, but fell back against the stairs, his coughing only making the sudden vertigo worse.

"Your head is wounded." a magnaguard said. "You should attend the medical bay, General."

"Kenobi!" he rasped. "Is he still alive?"

"Yes, sir. And unconscious." said a battle-droid.

If he still had teeth, Grievous would have grit them. He grabbed a railing, and pulled himself up, swaying about on his taloned feet. "I have wanted this for a very long time..." Grievous muttered, picking up Kenobi's lightsaber. "I should kill him right now."

"Probably-" the droid commander was silenced with a light cuff.

"I didn't ask you! Secure him. Then take the bodies to the nearest airlock, and get a camera droid."

Minutes later, Grievous stood tall, wrapped in his cloak, with a magnaguard at his side to hold him steady. "Make sure he is never on camera." he said, fighting off waves of nausea.

"Of course, sir." said the droid commander, making one last alignment of the bodies of Skywalker and Palpatine.

"We are ready." reported the magnaguard managing the camera droid.

"Put this on every frequency there is, the whole galaxy must know what has happened here." Grievous ordered. "And show my right side only!"

The other magnaguard nodded. "We are live." he said, and the broadcaster droid blinked a red light next to its lenses, as it hovered in place.

"Ah... greetings, misbegotten subjects of the Republic!" Grievous purred, in his best voice of confidence, the words Dooku and he had prepared for this moment coming back to his mind. "You know who I am. Perhaps you recall the breaking news I delivered earlier today, regarding the capture of your _beloved_ Supreme Chancellor Palpatine? I promised you the end of his corrupt and rotting regime, and I come before you now to deliver on that promise! Behold!"

Grievous pulled up the body of Palpatine, limp and cold. He tried to smile as he imagined the horror his foe must been feeling right now. "The savior of the Republic, so high and mighty in life! But in death, just another corpse." He dropped the body, and pulled up Skywalker's next. "And the Hero with No Fear! Hah! Not killed by our great Count, nor even by me, but shot down as they turned and ran to escape my wrath! The cowards, the fools! A fitting end, I say."

Now the camera droid moved carefully, turning to look at the airlock door, and pulling back in such a way as to avoid showing the supporting magnaguard. "Watch carefully, subjects of the Republic." Grievous said, as he showed the galaxy the two blaster-riddled bodies. "This is the fate of those who oppose the coming flood. Crushed like common rats..." A droid opened the airlock, and Palpatine and Skywalker flew out. The camera kept recording until the last of the air had whistled and whined away, and then shut off. Out in the void, the battle continued all around them, the bodies of the slain foes spinning into the great silence beyond. The doors closed, and Grievous fell to his knees.

"Your head is wounded." the same magnaguard said again, as the chamber re-pressurized. "You should attend the medical bay, General."

"Yes, yes, very well..." he coughed out. "Tell Captain Dofine he has command."

"Of the ship?" asked the commander battle-droid.

"Of everything!"

Just then, _Invisible Hand_ rocked and lurched, and all went dark again.

That was how Grievous found himself drifting back into consciousness, ever so slowly, reflecting on deeds done, until he became aware of where he was and when he was. The quiet whirring of the ship's engines sounded, some liquid bubbled, machines made their small noises.

"Finally. I was starting to think you'd never wake up." said a metallic voice. "Sometimes you are terribly dull..." There were only a few beings in the galaxy that could talk to Grievous like that without consequence: Darth Sidious, Count Dooku, and EV-A-4D, his medical droid. And since it was a droid talking...

"What happened this time, doctor?" asked the general.

"Oh, nothing _too_ serious. Just some minor concussive damage, nothing I couldn't fix here." said A-4D. "I see that Count Dooku is dead."

"He is."

"And that leaves you in charge of the entire Confederacy. No one can overrule you now."

"What are you getting at?" A-4D said nothing, but instead activated the containment field bonds on the medical bed. "Insolent droid!" Grievous spat. "I-"

"Please, master, try and understand that this is for your own good." sighed A-4D, dimming his photoceptors as if he were narrowing his eyes in annoyance. "Count Dooku was our highest authority, we both answered to him. Now that I only answer to you, I can bring to light an issue that I have been kept silent on – against my will, I'll have you know – for some time now."

"Speak." Grievous said, testing his limbs against the bonds anyway.

"It's something I've noticed when I look under your skull. Dooku told me never to tell you about it, under any circumstance, but he's dead now and-"

"Get to that point."

"Well, I remembered that you once told me that your one condition for being reborn as a monstrous cyborg and tyrant of worlds was that your mind not be tampered with... Well, master..."

A burning, seething feeling took hold in what was left of Grievous's natural body. "Go on, doctor." he said, already sure of what the droid was going to say next.

"To put it simply, they did exactly that." A-4D clasped his claws, as if imploring his master to have mercy on the bearer of bad news. "They enhanced your reflexes and balance, which was a benevolent addition. But they greatly amplified your tendency to anger, to the point where it overtakes many other emotions, as we've all seen and suffered. In fact, they even put blocks on some of your memory centers-"

"OUT!" roared Grievous, writhing against his bonds in fury. "Take it all out!"

"Master, some of the memory blocks are suppressing potentially traumatic-"

"Traumatic? Do you think I'm some sniveling weakling? Take it out!"

"As you command, but I think I'll leave the improved reflexes in, I know you'd regret removing those as soon as the next Jedi beats you in a fight." A-4D said, merrily deploying his surgeon's tools. Grievous tried to lift an arm to swat the droid, but it was still locked down. "And I won't remove these bindings quite yet. Just in case."

"I'm going to kill you, doctor."

"Don't make me turn off your vocoder. Now, hold still, this _is_ brain surgery here..."

Eventually, after much muttering by A-4D, two tiny chips dropped down on the tray with a clink. "There you have it, master." A-4D said, deactivating the bindings. Instantly, Grievous jumped back to his feet.

"I feel no different than before."

"Nonetheless, your mind is fully under your own command again. Maybe you can even go a day without knocking the head off any droid that displeases you." He ignored the remark.

"The guns have stopped." Grievous said, looking around the medical bay. No one was there, of course, A-4D had probably shooed them all out to give his master privacy. _Touchingly loyal, for a droid_ , Grievous thought. That was the one virtue which kept him from being turned into scrap for his unbecoming attitude.

"Yes, we went into hyperspace half a day ago." A-4D said.

"Then are are approaching Utapau?"

"I believe so. Why the hurry?"

"I wish to have a _talk_ with San Hill..." Grievous clicked his claws together. He always knew that Muun was nothing but a slimy, two-faced liar. Now he would pay for-

"Master, I must remind you that killing one our most important war material contributors would be nothing but a bad idea, especially when we're _losing._ "

"Quiet, droid." said Grievous. "Everything has gone according to plan."

"And now what?" A-4D asked. "There's still hundreds of Republic fleets out there, in case you didn't know." But Grievous ignored him again.

"I do not intend to kill the banker. Not yet. Now bring me my cloak, I'm going to-" Another fit of coughs stopped Grievous in mid-sentence.

"There's nothing I can do about that. Your lungs took quite a beating on Coruscant, and we don't have the facilities to heal them here. I'm afraid you'll just have to live with the pain for now." The droid sounded anything _but_ afraid as he fetched Grievous's cloak. "Do try to avoid any more accidents today, master, you've already been beaten up by two Jedi as it is."

"Hmmph. One last thing: what have you done with Dooku's parts?"

"They're in the morgue, master."

"Fix the body. As much as I would love to present Dooku's head to the Council, I don't think Sidious would like it."

Grievous stalked down _Invisible Hand_ 's corridors, and made his way to the bridge. When he entered, the crew hastily stood to attention.

"General." Captain Lushros Dofine saluted, backlit by the vortex of hyperspace. "Many congratulations to you for this magnificent victory today."

"How went the rest of the battle?" asked Grievous, uninterested in flattery or praise, even from a warrior he respected. Though, he supposed that the Captain's mention of victory ought to have told him everything...

"We did not have much hope after being trapped by the Republic's reinforcements, but after your disposal of the dictator and his pet, the enemy seemed to lose heart." Dofine said. "We were able to punch a hole through their lines and escape into high orbit, we were on our way out within the hour."

"Losses?"

"They were heavy, General, but we gave them the worse of it. They lost a good lot more than we did, and their leader too." Dofine folded his arms, and smiled smugly; about as much emotion as he ever showed. The Nemoidian was a strange one, as far as his kind went. "I do not deny that there was a certain satisfaction in watching Skywalker's corpse fly off into space. Especially with that stunt he pulled with Mar Tuuk over Ryloth in mind."

"I regret I never got to face him in combat... Nor even had the chance to insult him in person before his death." Grievous paced about the bridge. "How long until we reach Utapau?"

"Three hours, General." said Dofine. "But there are two issues I would like to bring up, with your leave."

"Yes?"

"First, where is Count Dooku?"

 _That_ was something Grievous would have to address soon, to everyone. Most people were not going to like the answer, and they were going to like the implications even less... But Dofine was trustworthy. "He's dead, Captain." The Nemoidian gave a slight sign of a frown, but spoke again.

"Secondly, the one that has been on my mind since the battle..." Grievous gestured for Dofine to go ahead. "We tracked two Jedi who landed in the hangar, but only one died. What became of the second?"

There was silence for a moment, and a shadow of concern came upon Grievous. "I have no idea, Captain."

* * *

Eight pairs of red eyes stared at him in the dim light. Obi-Wan had been in strange places before, but being held as a _guest_ in the barracks of Grievous's own magnaguards was another thing entirely. Escape was out of the question, his utilities and lightsaber were missing, and he'd learned the hard way that the droids had vented the corridor's air outside their barracks. Their competence was uncanny.

"I don't suppose you'll tell me how long I've been here?" he asked, stretching his arms as best they could, bound as they were. The droids stared wordlessly, as they had since he woke up hours ago. "No? Very well..." This was shaping up to be one terrible experience. Again, Obi-Wan wondered: W _here is Anakin, and where is the Chancellor?_

He had a bad feeling that he would not like the answers to those questions.

* * *

Author's note: In case you weren't around for the original story, which will soon be deleted to hide my shame, this is a very heavy alternate universe. Please voice any critiques you have, I'm a big boy now, I can take a bit of heat. I especially need help with style, I have trouble with both over-detailing and under-detailing to counter my over-detailing habits.


	2. Chapter 2: Jedi and Crab-Man

**Chapter 2**

In the distance, the thunder of war rumbled; but here, all was still. Esera Komara dragged herself down the ravine, its unnatural straightness the only sign this had once been a street. Great mountains of rubble soared up on either side. From their peaks she knew she could see all the other piles of debris, the remains of what had once been a city. One by one, the great towers and halls had been demolished, more often by the defending Shumavarans than by Republic guns.

"Do you think they'll ever rebuild it?" asked Thamyris, the commander of the 783rd Legion. They'd come to Shumavar in armor that gleamed white and red, fresh from their cloning facility, but it now was painted grey and brown, encrusted with soot and dust. Esera was surprised she hadn't poisoned her lungs, there was so much dust in the air.

"That depends, Commander." she said, climbing over what might have been a support beam. "Did we leave anyone alive to rebuild this place?"

"Someone's got to be firing those guns out there. The west side of the city is still in Seppie hands, even after all this." Thamyris said. His gaze rested on a ruined hulk of an AT-TE, rent wide open by an anti-armor missile that had streaked down from a half-demolished apartment block. That had only been a week ago, but it felt like a lifetime had passed. No one had slept more than a few hours in the last few days. Not until the Governor had decided enough was enough. "That gas worked better than I thought, I'll say. Poor fools didn't even have sealed helmets. Governor Dorthan was right, we should have deployed it the moment this turned into a street-by-street fight."

Esera felt the shame return again. She should have said something against using that weapon. Nothing about that level of slaughter felt right, even less than this entire war did. But she'd been so tired of the fighting, she just wanted it to end. Letting the Loyalist militia do the dirty work had seemed so easy. "I wonder what they felt... Crouching in some dark hole, trapped like animals and choked by some invisible miasma." They'd found dozens of Shumavaran corpses in piles, huddling together in their final gasping moments. Dressed in mismatched uniforms, many without even a proper helmet or a single piece of body armor, clutching home-made blasters and slugthrowers, still wearing their blue armbands with that white hexagon.

"Forgive me if I don't feel much sympathy after what they've put us through." Thamyris grumbled. "A quarter of our entire legion is dead, wounded, or sick. And we've only been here a few months. I'm not sure how those boys from the 14th lasted as long as they have!"

"This isn't the first time I've seen this, Commander." said Esera.

"Seen what? A bunch of fools who didn't know when to quit get gassed by the locals?" Thamyris waved at all the rubble surrounding them as they continued on. "I don't know what they were thinking, honestly. A rag-tag band of volunteers against the Grand Army of the Republic?"

"They fought as bravely as any clone."

"I hate to say it, General, but they _were_ brave." said Thamyris. "They were completely outmatched. And yet..." He shook his head, and fussed with the rifle slung over his shoulder. "A twenty-five percent casualty rate, can you believe that?"

"Never underestimate the will to fight, Commander." Esera could still smell the smoke of fires somewhere; acrid and stinging fumes from burning industrial material. "Like I said, I've seen it before. People with their backs to the wall and only death before them will quite often lose their fear of death."

"But why?" Thamyris asked. "I'm just a clone, all the Republic requires of me is that I die fighting. I've got no other purpose, so I'm happy to have that. But didn't these insurgents have families and lives? Why throw that away when the battle is already decided? I just don't get it, General."

"Use that brain of yours, Thamyris." Esera said. "Shumavar's Governor isn't exactly a merciful man."

"True..."

"Can you think of any reason why a Separatist would fight to the death rather than surrender to him?"

"He _does_ have a tendency to look the other way when it comes to certain wrong-doings by friendly irregulars, yes." Thamyris shrugged. "Those men they hanged were insurgents, anyway, they had it coming."

"What? You would hang a fourteen year old boy?"

"That's not too much older than a clone trooper. And you were fourteen when you fought your first battle, right?"

"That's different! I'm a Jedi, not a prisoner." Esera inhaled deeply to calm herself, too deeply; she coughed out dust. "Murder is not the Jedi way." she muttered, brushing a dark strand of hair out of her face.

" _Execution of disarmed enemy forces._ " Thamyris corrected. "That's what Governor Dorthan called it. The Separatists brought this down on themselves; they committed treason, they rebelled, they provided aid for the enemy, they fought against a lawful restoration of order, why shouldn't they die? Yes, our allies got carried away in doing justice, but it was completely understandable, after everything these insurgents have put us, and them, through. And our Loyalist friends have been fighting this battle a lot longer than we have."

Esera could only shake her head. "It's not the Jedi way." she said again. "My master told me never to be eager to deal out death and judgment."

"Try telling that to General Aspar." laughed Thamyris. Ardabur Aspar was the other Jedi here, leading the 14th Legion, a far more veteran bunch than the 783rd. Something about that man made her feel uneasy whenever she was near. She shouldn't have felt out of place at all during war meetings with Aspar, Governor Dorthan, and the clones; it was essentially a human-only affair in an increasingly pro-human political environment. But she was always quick to dismiss herself from their presence. _It's the eyes,_ Esera thought. There was a wildness in Aspar, one that rubbed her the wrong way. Esera was sure he had been made a Jedi knight out of desperation and nothing more, just like her; a stop-gap attempt to put more officers in the field. Unlike Esera, though, Aspar seemed to enjoy what he did. He seemed to enjoy it _too_ much.

The two came to a more open area, at the end of the ravine of wreckage, where troopers were scanning for any hidden dangers. "Report." Thamyris barked.

"No IEDs detected, sir. No mines either, and no traps." a clone with a scanner said. "The road is clear."

"Tell the tanks they're clear to move up." Thamyris said, waving an arm back down the ravine. "Finally, we're at the river!" Across the ravaged field, they could see water and the pillars of a bridge that was no longer there. "I don't like this open area, though. The buildings on the other side have good vantage points on us over here. We should level the waterfront before making any attempt at crossing."

"Yes, that looks like the best way." Esera nodded. "The west side is much smaller, the fighting shouldn't be as strong. Once we hold both banks, they'll have to surrender. Governor Dorthan's militia is only twenty kilometers away, and there's no natural defense between this river and him. A breakout will no longer be possible."

"I don't think they'll surrender." Thamyris drummed his fingers on a block of fallen stone facade. "They'll hold out in the west city until the Governor and his men arrive."

"I hope not... None of us can take much more of this. Two weeks to drive them into the hills and east city, fourteen and counting to drive them out. Madness."

"Why didn't we just bomb the city until nothing was left?"

 _This clone and his questions..._ Esera frowned. "Do you have any idea of how that would look? The Republic slaughtering an entire city? That's not what we do."

"I'm telling you, we'd only need to do it once, and every other holdout on this blasted world would fall straight into line."

"Or they'd never stop fighting us. No, Commander, if we show mercy to a defeated foe, the others will see that we are perfectly capable of being reasonable and compassionate. Including the commanders of the last droid forces south of here." How many times she'd told that to the others, Esera had lost count...

"Compassion doesn't win wars."

...And, as usual, no one listened to her. "Brutality doesn't win peace." Esera said back.

"We're not at peace, General."

To that, though, she could say nothing. _He's right_. The Republic hadn't been at peace for three years. No one forgot that. What everyone did seem to forget that sooner or later the war would end... Hopefully soon, with the Outer Rim Sieges coming along slowly but surely. Grievous's droid armies would run out of refuges soon enough-

A shot rang out, and one of the clones sweeping for explosives dropped dead.

"Sniper!" someone shouted. Esera's lightsaber flashed on, just in time for the green blade to bounce a red beam into the air. Another clone was dropped, and they all ran for the safety ravine. Then came a sharp _crack!_ and a strange buzz. Then another! She raised her blade instinctively, but the projectile went right through it and into her leg. Down she went.

"Slugthrowers!" Thamyris growled. Esera just clenched her jaw shut to not cry out. She'd been shot by blasters before, but this was a new pain. One of the clones pulled her back into the rubble. "General, are you alright?"

"I'll live." said Esera through grit teeth, touching the wound just above the knee. It was bleeding, like she had been cut. "What happened?"

"It's solid ammunition, General." a clone said. "Lightsabers can't block them, only heat them up a little when they pass through."

"Why haven't they given the droids those weapons?" she asked, drawing on the Force to dull out the pain. _I should have been a healer,_ Esera thought, and not for the first time.

"They're exponentially harder to learn." said Thamyris. "A blaster fires straight and true, a slug's trajectory drops as it travels, and no one gun shoots the same."

"And ammunition is a nightmare, logistically speaking. Not to mention, heavy and expensive." another clone chimed in. He had a medic's marking on his helmet, and wasted no time in breaking out his kit.

"Oh, and our armor is mostly slugproof." remarked a third. "Whoever that sniper was, he was probably waiting just for you! Must have been hoping he'd drop you sooner in the open, and make us choose between exposing ourselves and saving you. Typical sniper strategy, really. I heard a fellow in third company managed to get it to work on droids once."

"Well, General, the slug went right into your femur." the medic said. "As far as I can tell, it's easily treatable with the right gear, so we'll need to get you back to base."

Back to base it was. The rest of Esera's day was spent in the makeshift hospital they'd set up in an abandoned school. The medical droids did their work and assured her she'd be back on her feet in a few days. She was going to get caught up on paperwork and reports that no one actually read, if Thamyris and some of his troopers hadn't barged into her room early in the morning.

"General, General Komara!" the Commander shouted, helmet off and gear absent.

"What- what's going on?" Esera asked. "Are we under attack?"

Thamyris shoved a datapad in her face, opened to a Holonet News headline. "Grievous attacked Coruscant last night! The Chancellor is dead!"

* * *

It was evident the past day had been a jubilant one, at least as far as life on the coreship _Unlimited Projection_ was concerned. The natives on Utapau had been quiet and somber as ever, though some seemed troubled by what they saw coming across the Holonet.

Grievous found himself met with great and unexpected fanfare; blue and white Confederate banners hung from the hangar rafters, the droids were lined up in formation, and the organic crew, workers, and local supporters gave him a thunderous cheer when his shuttle's doors open. He had planned to rush straight to the communications room, but he strode calmly down the ramp and onto the deck, staring ahead as if he heard none of the commotion around him. It must have been quite the sight for the cameras, though Grievous wasn't sure if they were actually filming or not.

"Long live the Confederacy!" many people shouted.

"Thus to all tyrants!" proclaimed others.

Nute Gunray, his sworn foe, even gave him a polite nod as he passed!

 _If only I could have killed Palpatine myself. But avoiding a fight with Skywalker might have been a turn for the best,_ he thought, as he suppressed a cough. It was several days after Windu's attack, and he still did not feel ready for a fight. Grievous had expected himself to be in a foul mood for the rest of the voyage over the brain chips San Hill had planted in him, but the discovery that his magnaguards had successfully contained Kenobi without incident, and the recognition of his marvelous victory were enough to keep him in good spirits. It was so rare for things to go so right! He didn't even feel like throttling the treacherous San Hill now. When Grievous finally finished the long walk to the lift, he let the built-up wheezing and hacking take him, the walls supporting him for a moment.

Sidious's orders had been to contact him immediately upon his return from Coruscant, if Sidious didn't contact him first. He was going to have to explain Dooku's death... A twinge of worry wiggled its way into what was left of his gut. The Sith lord was not as forgiving as Dooku. But at least he had apparently captured Obi-Wan Kenobi, one of the greatest generals of the Republic. And not to mention, he'd gone above and beyond what his orders specified – not only was the Republic's leader dead, but their greatest hero was too! That would have to please Sidious, surely!

Minutes slipped by, and Grievous tapped his fingers on the console. Nothing happened for a minute. Three minutes. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Only silence. He hated the idea of leaving a message with Sidious, as if he were some petty social caller, but it was the only choice before him.

"Lord Sidious," Grievous began with a bow, recording himself on the holoprojector, "I have succeeded beyond all our expectations at Coruscant. Chancellor Palpatine is dead, and so is that braggart Anakin Skywalker. I have taken the Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi into custody as well. I would execute him, but... We have a problem: Count Dooku was killed in the battle too. I am unsure of how to proceed, and await your instruction. Until then, I will carry on as I see fit. Grievous out." Sidious would have to deal with the bluntness, Grievous had other work to do.

And dirty work, at that. The _civilians_ had to be dealt with now; the greedy vultures who had set up shop in one of the other hangars in the coreship. _Gunray and his ilk..._ Dooku got on well enough with them, but he? The great general of the Separatists, who fought battles and defied the odds, versus those corporate executives who hid under tables when the bombs fell? To deal with these insects was demeaning!

"Ah, General!" Viceroy Gunray greeted, being the first to stand at his presence. "I congratulate you on your magnificent victory! I always knew you had it in you!"

 _Have you now?_ Grievous thought, wishing he could frown to spite the Nemoidian.

"Yes, indeed!" San Hill chimed in. "You've gone beyond all expectations this time!"

"We've struck a glorious blow for the Confederacy!" said Wat Tambor, clenching a fist.

"Yes, yes," Grievous waved his hand at them, gesturing for his magnaguards to bring in today's show-and-tell for the civilians. "Palpatine is dead, Skywalker is dead, Kenobi is in our custody. All as planned."

" _Let me remind this council that we have only struck a pinprick to their heart, while they break our arms._ " Poggle the Lesser said, clicking and chirping in his people's tongue. " _The war is far from over._ "

"The war will go on-" agreed Grievous, before being interrupted by a harsh fit of coughing. He had to wait a few moments for it to subside, leaving the civilians to sit awkwardly. When it was over, Grievous went on like nothing had happened: "I accepted this transformation, this body, for two reasons, as some of you know." He looked pointedly at San Hill. "First, so that I could crush the Republic. Second, so that I might continue my revenge against the Jedi. Neither is complete. But my only term was this: that my mind not be tampered with!"

He produced a small transparent bag from his cloak: in it, the two chips A-4D removed from his brain, which he tossed onto the long table. There was silence from the civilians.

"My term was violated from the very start. Someone here today willingly committed this act." Grievous looked at all of them, his baleful glare resting on San Hill a little longer. The Muun sat very still, and did not meet his eyes. "Someone here today should be glad that I need his resources. Someone here today should be very thankful that I do not tear him apart with my own two hands!" He sank his talons into the hangar deck, sending a shrill shriek through the hall. San Hill dabbed his sweaty brow with a handkerchief, still avoiding looking at Grievous. _Let him squirm,_ he thought, enjoying the Muun's anxiety. "But for now, I can let my vengeance wait. There is something else we must attend to. Bring him in."

The magnaguards pushed in a casket on a repulsor sled. "What is this?" Gunray asked. "I thought you jettisoned the bodies into space."

"Not this body." Grievous opened the casket, and revealed the re-assembled corpse of Count Dooku. A murmur ran through the Council, there were expressions of dismay and shock. "An unfortunate loss, I'm sure you'd agree."

"This is... unexpected, General." said Wat Tambor. "What happened?"

"Skywalker killed him." said Grievous, before coughing again. "Now that Dooku is dead, I am in full control of this war." More murmuring, this time with an undertone of worry and anger. "I expect your full cooperation."

"We have a very delicate arrangement, currently..." Passel Argente said, looking at his compatriots.

"Do you?" Grievous walked to and fro in front of the Council's table, hands folded behind his back.

"Yes, General." said Gunray. He rubbed his hands together nervously. "Our resources are available, to a certain extent, but we must be careful not to appear too much on the Confederacy's side. So that our assets in the Republic are not seized, and the galactic economy does not collapse..."

"And if it were to collapse?" asked Grievous, pausing in front of the Viceroy. The Viceroy paled at the prospect.

"Unthinkable!" he whispered.

"Disaster! It would... be..." Argente trailed off the moment Grievous looked at him, shrinking into his chair.

"I for one," Wat Tambor stood, placing a fist over his heart and looking up into the air like the subject of some heroic painting, "would gladly crash this economy if it meant victory for our valiant cause! The Techno Union is at your disposal, General."

"Shut up, you idiot!" hissed San Hill, tugging on Tambor's arm, trying to make him sit down.

" _Geonosis has been wholly for the Separatist cause since the start. War is our business._ " Poggle the Lesser said, giving a disdaining look to the other members.

"At least two of you aren't entirely pathetic." muttered Grievous. "For now, we will continue the arrangement as Dooku had it. But know that I am not as forgiving as he was. If you tell anyone the Count is dead before the time is right, there will be a price to pay. If you work against me, there will be a price to pay. If you so much as deny me _anything_ that would effect the outcome of this war, as you have in the past, there will be a price to pay. Is that understood?" They all nodded, as he suspected they would. "You are dismissed, except for you, Viceroy."

The Council hastily departed, with the exception of Tambor and Poggle, who bowed respectfully before leaving. That left a very uncomfortable Gunray alone at the table.

"I assure you, General," he said, "I have done nothing!"

"Not today, at least." Grievous said. "There is one final matter I could not discuss in front of the others. Only you and Dooku truly knew of it, besides myself."

"I have no idea-"

"Lord Sidious."

"Ah..." The Viceroy became even more nervous, his breaths shallow and fast. It was joked that Nemoidians had a whole organ devoted to worrying, but Grievous had long thought it actually true. "Is he... displeased with us?"

"Not as far as I know. In fact, I know nothing of all about his current mood. He has failed to contact me, or respond to any attempt of mine. You and I are the only two left alive who have ever spoken to him directly. Perhaps you know of a way to contact him?"

"I have never even seen him face to face." said Gunray. "He only appeared in holograms, and only then when it was convenient for him."

"Then I was closer to him than you, it seems." It was hard to forget that run-in with Maul, which had ended up with Sidious himself coming out in person to play. "Dooku mentioned he had influence on Coruscant... Perhaps my friendly visit left him with communication problems?" The thought was pleasing. Perhaps he should take this opportunity to seize all the information he could while Sidious was out of the picture? Yes, that did sound good.

"It is entirely possible!" Gunray nodded vigorously. _If his head moves any faster, that stupid hat is going to fall off!_ Grievous hoped it did.

"I am going to access all of Dooku's records and find out what I can. I have a task for you too, Viceroy; one that might put you in my good favor for once." Grievous leaned forward, towering over the Nemoidian and casting his shadow on him.

"Y-yes?" stammered Gunray, trembling like a plucked bowstring.

"I want the every piece of data you have on Sidious. Including transcripts of your communications."

"Of course, you will have it as soon as it can be readied."

"Excellent." He stepped back, and Gunray sighed in relief. "You may prove too useful to kill yet. Now, go." The Viceroy didn't need to be told twice.

 _What now?_ He asked himself. Normally he'd wait for orders from one of the Sith lords, but neither was available to give any. For the moment, Grievous was free to do as he pleased... He left the hangar, and wandered about the coreship with magnaguards in tow, ignoring the salutes droid and organic alike gave.

Grievous emerged from the coreship, finding himself in one of open roads that spiraled up and down the sinkhole of Pau City. The sun was warm on what little remained of his flesh, and a calm breeze tugged at his cloak. A distant recollection of _something_ chimed in his mind, but nothing more than a pleasant feeling came of it. The Council had been sufficiently threatened, San Hill had been terrified, Sidious was not able to bother him, a great victory had been won, and his mind was his own again... _Yes, this is a good day,_ he thought. Perhaps he'd just enjoy a peaceful afternoon for once. The idea was strangely appealing.

The built-in communicator in his wrist chimed. _Or perhaps not._ "Yes?" he answered.

A hologram of his flagship's captain appeared. "General." Dofine saluted. "I apologize if I am disturbing you, but the fleet commanders and I are gathering for a celebration in the main conference room here. We would be most honored if you would grace us with your presence. After all, you did lead us to victory."

Grievous suppressed a groan. Nemoidians loved their formal occasions, and if there was one thing Grievous hated, it was formal occasions. He was in charge now, though, he didn't have to go. But, it was a good day so far, and the Separatist's finest had shown their mettle... "Very well." he said. "I will come, but only because you manage not to sicken me."

* * *

"...a toast then, to our fearsome and victorious General!" Captain Dofine raised a glass, and so did all the other organic captains and commanders that had just returned triumphant from Coruscant, now gathered in the ceremonial hall of _Unlimited Projection_.

"Long may he live!" they exclaimed. Grievous just stood next to Dofine, hands behind his back, looking bored. Kronaak weakly waved his bone walking stick, along with many more enthusiastic officers.

The cheerful murmur returned to its previous levels. But Captain Kronaak of the _Lucrehulk_ battleship _Aethra_ fell back into self-reflection. He had become convinced that the past week had been his peak in life. From chattel, to refugee, to soldier, to officer, to captain; a career that had found its finest hour taking part in the most daring military operation in a millennium.

The last six months had been grueling, physically and spiritually, for all loyal Separatists. Retreat after retreat, loss after loss, world after world fallen to the Republic's onslaught. Despair set in among his fellow officers, morale sank ever lower. All the great soldiers were being killed, one by one. Admiral Trench, Grievous's favored warrior, had died just three months ago. And then Grievous had summoned him to Thyffera, one of their last holdings in the inner rim. Kronaak, along with dozens of other officers of the Confederate Navy, had come in secret with their ships to a great staging area. On the hangar deck of _Invisible Hand_ , General Grievous and Count Dooku themselves briefed them on their mission: to strike Coruscant itself.

The Outer Rim Sieges, as bad as they were for the Confederacy, had drawn the bulk of Republic strength far from their capital. Coruscant was the last place anyone expected Grievous to turn up. They were spread so thin it would be hours, maybe even days, before any help could arrive. But Confederate spies had found a chart of an ancient and forgotten hyperspace route through the Deep Core, one the Republic did not know of. The time had come to stab at the rotten and corrupt heart of the foe.

And stab they did.

It had truly been glorious! The tension of the stealthy flight in, the excitement of listening to unsuspecting enemy transmissions as they approached, the wrathful glee that came from being a demon unleashed in the garden of paradise, raining down fire and terror on the decadent filth who had caused them so much misery and hardship... He'd even taken a moment to send some turbolaser shots into the Senate district. Kronaak had been more alive than he ever had been before. But best of all had been watching the broadcast of Grievous dumping the dictator Palpatine's body into space like the garbage it was. Far away on Minntooine, his clan must have been celebrating like everyone else, having no idea yet that one of their sons had partaken in such a feat. The giddy mood had persisted for the entire escape back to Utapau. It had been like getting away with the greatest heist ever made. That wasn't too far from the truth, actually-

"You must be Captain Kronaak."

"Mmmh-? General Grievous!" Kronaak snapped out of his thoughts, and saluted. The cyborg was at his eye level while hunched over. With Grievous was Lushros Dofine, his favored captain.

"I have seen one of your kind before." Grievous said, between coughs. "A ten legged crab-man. He was a Jedi."

 _I only use six legs to walk,_ Kronaak wanted to say. But he went with a safer response: "I am sorry to hear that, General. But I have never known one of my race to be a Jedi. We have only been free to choose our own destiny for a very short time." Kronaak clicked his claws together.

"You are a Viraanntesse, yes? From Vvaw?" There was a subtle anger in his voice.

"I do not mean to be comedic, sir, but I am not sure."

Grievous's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, _you are not sure?_ "

"I was born on Siskeen, sir. When Tar-Mairos seized power, he freed all the property of his enemies, including my people." Kronaak explained, resisting the urge to stand taller in challenge.

"You are a slave?" asked Dofine.

"In a manner of speaking, I _was_. Tar-Mairos suggested my people move to Minntooine, and that's where I joined our fleet. Months before the war even began, sir."

"And now you are a captain of a battleship." said Grievous, eyes still narrowed, but the anger gone. He stepped backwards, and tilted his head.

"Captain Kronaak has displayed considerable talent over the past year. His squadron was the force guarding our right flank during the escape from Coruscant, sir." Dofine interjected, clasping his hands. "He kept six star destroyers off us while you dealt with the Chancellor and Skywalker."

"I assumed he was a skilled tactician to be among the warriors here." Grievous looked about the room, the anger returning to his voice. "I will be blunt: I have an intense dislike for your people."

Kronaak's four eyes blinked in surprise. "Really, now?"

"Do not take that tone with me, crab-man!" snapped Grievous, sticking a finger in his face. "Consider yourself lucky that I am in a good mood. You have fought well, and if you continue to fight well, you may redeem your race yet." With that, the cyborg turned about, cloak swirling, and stalked off, coughing all the while.

"Captain Dofine," said Kronaak, turning towards the Nemoidian, "do you know what my people did wrong?"

"It's a mystery to me, too. I presume it's because one of them was a Jed." Dofine put a hand on his chin, before smiling. "Do not feel too upset over it, though, the General hates everyone equally."

"That is a re-assuring thought."

Not many people were eager to approach fearsome and tall creature like Kronaak. Six legs, four arms, four eyes, two mandible sets, and enough carapace to shrug off blasters did tend to scare the smaller bipeds. _I'm no crab,_ Kronaak thought, with Grievous's comment in mind. Crabs were for eating, Kronaak's kind were not, no matter what those vermin on Siskeen had thought. Tar-Mairos excluded, of course. Kronaak and his kin stood tall, walking upright, not scuttling about, prone to the ground, like little animals. They even wore clothes, like any Nemoidian, Quarren, or Human! _Crab!_ Woe to Kronaak, bound by protocol as he was. He wondered if the Jedi of his race Grievous had mentioned ever punished anyone for calling him a crab... _Who could have thought one of us could become a Jedi?_

Kronaak returned to his guest chamber after the event had ended. Before he slept in the makeshift water bath he'd made, he contacted his second-in-command back on _Aethra_. "27, is there anything to report?"

"No, sir." answered the yellow-marked battle-droid. "Repairs and re-stocking are going along at expected pace. We'll be fully operational in no time!"

"Good, good... Kronaak out."

* * *

Author's really wordy notes because he likes to hear himself talk: General Grievous metaphorically spits in the face of acceptable social conduct, and our cast of characters, both point of view and secondary, will only grow larger from here. I apologize to the reviewer who wished for less jumping around between points of view, it is necessary for the way this story is told, but every single one of them has a purpose for being there. I hope he is assured that I am doing my best to present a balanced perspective on this conflict, though. The unsavory actions committed on Shumavar are the fault of a pro-Republic militia, not the Republic itself; their reasons for being so edgy will come up later. But I'm a guy who thinks the 2008 cartoon is actually in-universe pro-Republic propaganda (at least the parts that don't focus on based Sheev's double-dealing), so... yeah. I am highly biased, it's something I have to work around. Anyways, with the Empire's formation only weeks away in the main Star Wars timeline, I believe that Chancellor Sheev had already begun placing brutal men like the mentioned Governor in positions of power. And the Clone Wars show showed us that Jedi do lose faith in the Jedi way thanks to the war, or the war causes them to lose faith in other things. I strive to present emotionally believable logic in my characters (rational logic alone is bad for storytelling).

To the other reviewers, Ahsoka Tano is alive and I do not intend to kill her just for the hell of it. I actually really like how she developed over the course of the show, maybe she'll turn up later, or maybe not. Read and find out. Shaak Ti will not be the Jedi main character in this story, she will not be the defector. Gee, I wonder who it is then? And for my final note, I apologize about the delay in posting this. There have been technical issues which prevented me from getting to my documents for five days. I hope to update on Fridays from now on, God knows I have enough chapters pre-written to give me time to stay ahead of my schedule. See you next time, nerds.


	3. Chapter 3: Changing Courses

**Chapter 3**

Black smoke from ravaged towers and crashed warships still filled the skies of Coruscant, a day after the battle. A hush had fallen over the world-city, the quiet of fear and defeat. Grievous had come, and just like the flood he spoke of in his brief address, he had swept away all opposition, before vanishing back into the night. But while others despaired, Admiral Wilhuff Tarkin stood on his balcony and thought about what he was going to do. With Palpatine dead, there was going to be some chaos in the government, to put it lightly.

"We thought this war would be over soon." Shayla Paige-Tarkin said, his kinswoman and senator of their home sector. "I think it just got much longer."

"No doubt." agreed Tarkin.

"If the Separatists can break the sieges in the Sluis sector, Eriadu may come under attack." Shayla paced about, hands clasped. "I very much desire to return home and safeguard our people."

"I understand wholly. But you have duties here, do you not?"

"Yes..."

"I do not mean to sound over-eager, but perhaps I could fulfill them while you defended Eriadu?" suggested Tarkin. Shayla paused, looking conflicted.

"You'd have to resign your commission with the Navy." she said.

"I'm a patriot, I will be happy serving the Republic in whatever way it needs me to, in battle or in politics."

"Yes... Very well, I will make the arrangements. Are you sure, though?" asked Shayla.

He smiled. "Completely." _Senator Tarkin_ had a nice ring to it.

* * *

"I can't say I'm going to miss Chancellor Palpatine." said Master Windu. "The power he gathered was worrying. But I also can't deny he was exactly what the Republic needed to get through this war."

"My sentiments as well, Master Windu." agreed Bail Organa, standing before the Jedi Council. "I believe we'll miss Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker more, though."

"Dead, Obi-Wan, is not." Yoda spoke, looking past everyone in the room, as if he were seeing some hidden place none of the others were aware of. "A great disturbance in the Force, there has been. See no more, I can." The other Jedi masters nodded.

"I'd be glad to know if he was alive. But the facts are, we have not even heard mention of him since the battle." Bail said.

"This is true." Master Ki-Adi-Mundi's hologram nodded once. "We must maintain hope for Master Kenobi, and in the mean time, turn our attention to something else that we can effect." _That_ would be what Bail had come to speak about, on the Jedi's request.

"Yes, Republic law has it that the Vice Chair fulfill the remaining term of the Chancellorship in case of situations like that. Mas Amedda will be acting as Supreme Chancellor for the next seven months, until Palpatine's term is completed. As fate has it, if he had been elected for a third term before the war, then his fourth would be coming up later this year. Then the Republic will have its first election for the Chancellorship in quite some time." The Jedi glanced among each other.

"Mas Amedda?" asked Master Windu.

"I'm not happier at the notion than you are." said Bail. "But the law is the law."

"So it is." Ki-Adi-Mundi said. "Do you have any idea of who the frontrunners for the Chancellorship might be?"

"No one will vote for Amedda, I assure you of that. Otherwise, it's a mystery. I suppose we'll find out in a week when the campaigning begins."

"Just what the Republic needs right now... Months of political infighting." Saesee Tiin sighed.

"We'll just have to weather it." said Master Windu. "Thank you for seeing us, Senator Organa."

Even the Holonet was quiet today. No one really knew what to do now that Palpatine was dead, and the illusion of safety shattered. Military reports to the Senate had told that the conflict was winding down. The Confederacy had been driven back into its Outer Rim heartland, its most important worlds held tightly under siege. Despite what the fear-mongering media said, the war was well on its way to ending.

Bail had believed that until today. Dooku and Grievous, the two most feared individuals in the galaxy, had more tricks up their sleeves than they let on. If they were capable of staging such an attack so supposedly late in the war, what else could they do? He had begun to doubt that the fight was anywhere close to finished. Perhaps the fear-mongers had been right the entire time.

* * *

Just because it was night on Utapau didn't mean the rest of the galaxy was asleep. Message after message was piling up for General Grievous. Grievous didn't answer any of the calls. The issue of Sidious was his foremost concern, or rather, where Sidious was. A chilling notion occurred to him: what if Sidious had been accidentally killed in his attack on Coruscant? No, that was impossible. Such a powerful Sith lord would not be killed by mere accident. Fate did not work that way. Not for Grievous.

The console continued to beep at him. _Everyone_ wanted to talk to him tonight. Or rather, they wanted to talk to Dooku. Grievous brought up the list of deliberately missed calls. In retrospect, immediately taking control of Dooku's privileges and powers, including re-routing messages for the Confederacy's Head of State to himself, hadn't been the best idea. Predictably, much of it mundane civilian tripe like requests for endorsements or permissions to do this and that. There was no hint of Sidious.

However, there was one message addressed to Grievous himself, concerning a war report. At least _that_ might be worth answering... Grievous responded to the hail, out of curiosity more than anything else. In moments, the hologram of a haggard Slussi appeared, in full regalia of gilt armor and rich robes. "General." he said, with a nod.

"I don't know you." Grievous said back. "What business do you have with me?"

"I am Candobar Inglet, Khedive of Sluis Van. I have spent the last five months fighting the Republic." said he, as his hologram flickered and shook. Republic artillery must have been nearby, Grievous had seen those effects before. "And I have done so unfailingly. We have fought day and night without recourse, and we have held the line here."

"Do you expect congratulations for doing your job?" asked Grievous, reclining in his chair and trying not to cough too harshly.

"I expect the Confederacy to aid its own!" snapped the Khedive. He shook a fist in anger, his voluminous robes revealing how thin his arms were. "My sipahis and their droids forces have not failed, but my people are starving!"

"I thought Sluissi were known for their calmness and patience..." Grievous taunted.

"My list of options is growing thin, General." The Khedive sank back down on his long tail. "It was my destiny from birth to safeguard my people, and now I see them collapsing in the streets for want of food. The Republic's defoliants have destroyed our croplands, they have poisoned our livestock, and they shoot down every blockade runner they can. I presumed one such as you would be able to find a modicum of understanding of this situation, one lord of a suffering nation to another."

Now it was Grievous's turn to snap. "You presume much, serpent! If you seek to press me to action with threats of surrender-"

"Do not question my integrity, Grievous; I assure you, I have never fled from a fight, and I will not start now." the Sluissi said, sneering. Grievous growled back, but let him continue on. "I will resist the Republic to my last breath. That last breath is not far off; we will all die of hunger before we are defeated in battle. Then you will be deprived of our shipyards, our engineers, and the greatest fortress of this sector. This is not the end I would have for my people, nor for our cause. But it is the end I see, nonetheless."

"Bold words, serpent. What would you have me do?"

"You are at Utapau now, with your entire fleet, so my intelligence tells me. Strike now while the Republic grieves for the death of their dictator, and you may just drive them off. Our facilities would be at your disposal for repairs and refitting..." The Khedive said, before giving the slightest hint of a smile. "It would look good start, I think, for your first action of Head of State to be that of liberating a starving world from its invaders."

"How do you know that?" Grievous sat up quickly, trying to grab at the Sluissi's hologram before he could stop himself.

"An educated guess. My delegate in Congress has reported that Dooku did not appear as scheduled after the attack, with no notification of his absence either. Your reaction has merely confirmed my suspicions."

"You are brave, serpent, I cannot deny that. Continue your fight, we will see how things go." With that, Grievous shut off communication. He rubbed his hands together, considering what the Khedive had said. There was much work that needed to be done, and no one to tell him where to start. Maybe having so much responsibility wouldn't be good after all.

The serpent's words resounded in his mind for the next hour, as he ignored more civilian calls addressed to Dooku. _One lord of a suffering nation to another..._ Vague recollections came to Grievous. He knew he had a life before his transformation, but when he tried to recall details, almost everything as a blur. It was something to think on for another time. The Khedive was right, that was what was clear at the present. It _would_ be bad if Sluis Van fell to the Republic. He sprang to his feet, and activated his communicator. "Dofine!" he barked.

"Uh- um, yes, General?" asked the Nemoidian, in a tired voice.

"Tell the captains to return to their ships, and fire up their engines. We're heading out."

"We are? Very well, General. Some warning would have been appreciated, though."

"War does not wait on the weary, Dofine."

* * *

While Esera Komara was unable to come to war meetings, the war meetings came to her. Fellow Jedi knight Ardabur Aspar, Commander Thamyris, and some other clones she hadn't bothered to learn the names of all piled into the former classroom she was recovering in. There wasn't much to talk about in consideration of their own battle, but everyone had plenty to say about Grievous's attack.

"I can't believe it, myself." a clone from the 14th Legion said.

"It must have been one hell of a strategy, on the part of the Clanker-in-Chief." Thamyris added.

"As far as I've heard from Admiral Screed's public statements, the Home Fleet has been continuously stripped of warships to reinforce the Outer Rim Sieges." said Aspar. "It's no wonder Grievous was able to attack nearly unopposed for almost sixteen hours."

"Our friends in the militia are calling for justice for the murder of the Chancellor and General Skywalker." The 14th Legion clone smirked grimly. "I say we let them. The Chancellor was a helpless old man, murdered in cold blood by that droid monster."

"Can't say it's a bad idea." Thamyris said. "We've been exceedingly patient with these traitors, thanks to General Komara here. Maybe too patient."

"We're not killing anyone who isn't shooting at us." Esera scolded. "I'm as shocked as any of you by what that half-droid madman's done, but we can't let it cloud our judgment. We _must_ show restraint."

"With respect to my colleague, I disagree." Aspar paced to and fro by her bed, staring down at her with his hawkish face. "We need to teach these Separatists a lesson. Wanton destruction and slaughter is not excusable, and will be met with reciprocated force."

"So how does that make us different from Grievous?" asked Esera.

"My young friend," sighed Aspar, putting a hand on her shoulder, "one day you will learn the difference between legally restoring order and committing treasonous mayhem."

"You're not _that_ much older than me." Esera muttered.

He spoke on: "The Republic is order. The Republic is law. We Jedi fight to maintain the law and order of the Republic. Sometimes, harsh measures are needed, but in the end, everyone will be brought back under on order, one law, one system, one state. And _then_ we will have the peace you so love to talk about. Best you remember that, Komara."

Aspar's one order would be a bloody one, that was for sure. "You sound like a Sith from one of those old stories." she said.

The other Jedi snorted. "Cute."

"I hate to interrupt a Jedi chat, sir, but I just got word our pickets to the south are reporting activity." the 14th Legion clone said. Thamyris put on his helmet.

"We better go check this out." he said.

"If you know any Force healing techniques, now would be the time to apply them." Aspar said. "We may need you out there."

"Sure you will." Esera crossed her arms. Her direct combat skills were weak, Aspar knew that firsthand. Back at the Temple, in happier days, she'd preferred the problem-solving and negotiation exercises, her master had taught her that was a Jedi's _first_ course of action. But even when they'd practiced a Jedi's _last_ course of action, she'd never been very good at it. In the spirit of how fast the Temple was churning out Knights for the war, a run-in with a swarm of droidekas had been accepted as her trial of skill... Not exactly an impressive feat compared to Jedi like the late Skywalker. All Esera could do now was meditate and hope nothing serious was happening outside.

Her hope failed when explosions sounded in the south. _Are the droids attacking?_ Esera wondered. _Why?_ They'd been trapped in those hills for months, and didn't seem intent on breaking out. But the sounds of battle drew ever-closer, and she could hear the distinctions between them. AATs were on the loose, the sizzling of their energy shells was unmistakable. Missiles shrieked in the distance, blasters rang out. And they drew closer. She sat up in her bed, and tried to look out the window; there was smoke out there.

"General," said a clone of her own legion, opening the door, "we're going to need to evacuate this building, for the moment. The Seps managed to sneak by our watchposts and take us on the flank."

"Do so." Esera said. "I will leave last, in case they show up before you're finished."

"Understood." The clone left. He must not have known she couldn't actually walk. Regardless, her master had always said that a Jedi was the last one out of a dangerous situation, because she would be able to survive longest in one.

Half a hour passed, the battle growing ever-nearer. The hospital was abuzz with energy, as the clones evacuated their wounded brothers. At last, she could see movement outside. The clones fell back in an orderly fashion, beyond were the attackers. An AAT moved around the corner, painted with patches of dull green, brown, and white. Sheets of mesh had been crudely welded onto the central hull and turret sides for some reason, and its power converters and cannons were wrapped in some kind of canvas. Behind it came a motley mix of droids and militia. These men were better armored than their city counterparts, though just as mismatched in equipment.

A missile shot out to meet the Separatist tank, but it exploded harmlessly against the mesh. _I guess that's why they put it there..._ Someone in their camp was creative. "Trooper?" Esera called, trying to summon the clone she'd talked to earlier. He did not come. "Great..." she sighed. Now how was she supposed to escape with a broken leg still two days from recovery? As far as she knew, she wasn't. "They left me behind on purpose, I bet." Esera placed her lightsaber at her side, and stared crossly at the wall in front of her.

The Separatists arrived minutes later.

* * *

Author's note on things only nerds care about: By my reckoning, ROTS took place in what can only be called (for lack of better word) April or May, 19 BBY. Just under halfway into the third year of war. If Sheev was elected in 32 BBY and then again in 28 BBY, he should have been up for election again in 24 BBY (Separatist crisis happened though), and then for a fourth term in 20 BBY. As he was never elected for these latter two terms, I've decided that the two years between the Separatist crisis and start of the three years of war aren't being counted, bumping the theoretical third election to 22 BBY. Now with 18 BBY about half a year off, that gives the Republic about seven months to find people to run for office. It's a rough bunch of math, but having someone as passive and uncharismatic as Mas Amedda in power for three years of the story really doesn't suit my narrative interests. Another issue of concern is dating. No, not courtship between young couples, that's for normal people, I have a Star Wars AU fanfic that turns the basic premise of Star Wars on its head to write. I mean chronological dating. At some point in the future, I will introduce the chronology I've chosen to use. It uses the Ruusan Reformation as year 0, putting us in the year 981. Not entirely relevant at the moment, but it will be eventually.

Oh yeah, I've just realized my chapters are divided based on what I think is a good place to divide them at, not a word length, so maybe I'll scale my updates to reflect their size instead of sticking to every Friday. Or maybe not. I really should have thought this through before diving in...


	4. Chapter 4: Turning Points

**Chapter 4**

"I have a mission for you, crab-man." Grievous's hologram said. "I hope you are up for it."

"Where you command, I will go, sir." said Kronaak. He was stuck in his shuttle, just like half of the other officers who had come down to Utapau for a well-earned break, only for their General to wake them up in the middle of their first night off for a new campaign. The narrow confines of the sinkhole meant only a few ships could safely leave at a time, and despite being a battleship's captain, Kronaak was still low in departure priority.

"Good." The cyborg clasped his hands together behind his back; a habitual stance everyone in the Confederate Navy had come to recognize. "Our stronghold of Sluis Van is succumbing to starvation. The Khedive of the serpents has asked me to break the blockade of his world so that his people do not all die in the next month. Apparently the serpents are vital to our war-effort."

"The Sluissi are excellent mechanics and engineers, sir." Kronaak agreed. "It would be a harsh blow to lose their aid."

"As much as I would like to just evacuate the vital personnel for future use, my advisers tell me that it would be wiser to save the entire planet's population, even the useless civilians." Grievous did not hide the annoyance in his voice.

"Mechanics and engineers tend to have families, sir. And people as a whole tend to fight better when they have something to fight for."

"I did not ask for your opinion, crab-man." growled the cyborg, before coughing. "I need you to take your squadron and... hmmm, _requisition_ what food supplies in this region you can. Enough to provide relief until regular shipments can resume."

"It can be done, sir." Kronaak nodded. Ahead of him, someone's very prestigious _Theta_ -class shuttle lifted off. His _Sheathipede_ would be next. "Give me a week-"

"You have two days, Captain." If he had a mouth, Grievous would have been smiling, Kronaak knew it.

"Two days-?!"

"Will there be a problem? Or should I give this task to one of my Nemoidians? They have a nose for timely thrift..."

"I will meet you at Sluis Van in two days, sir, with the goods." Kronaak saluted again, and Grievous cut off the hologram. Immediately, he rang up _Aethra._ "27, we have a new mission."

"Yes, Captain?" answered OOM-27, his battle-droid second.

"Locate all inhabitances in this region that trade in whatever foods Sluissi eat. Anything will do."

"Roger roger." 27 said.

Kronaak clicked his claws, and adjusted the insulating robes his people wore while out of water. "We have two days to gather enough to feed a whole planet. We must be prompt about this."

OOM-27 nodded. "So, terminologically speaking, we're doing a food run for General Grievous?"

"Yes, you could say that."

The shuttle was finally given clearance to leave, and they soared up back into orbit. _I wonder who owned that_ Theta _?_ Kronaak thought, as his pilot droids guided them back to _Aethra_. The _Theta_ was generally found in the ownership of Republic senators, not Separatist officers. He'd need to look into that.

It took less time to reach his ship than it did to get out of the hangar. Kronaak's shuttle touched down in one of the central sphere's personal hangars, and he made quick time up to the bridge tower. "Everything is still in order?" he asked, upon arriving on the bridge.

"Yes, sir." reported OOM-27. As far as battle-droids went, 27 was ancient. Pure luck had saved him from the scrap pile after the Naboo incident thirteen years ago, then he'd endured a decade of security work on a Techno Union remote mining facility, before finally getting caught in the chaos of Geonosis and managing to stumble aboard coreship Kronaak served on, along with a hundred thousand other retreating droids. That coreship had been, of course, _Aethra_ , and in the last three years, Kronaak had been running an experiment on his droids: he'd never once wiped 27's memory, nor the memories of any other droids in his service.

The results were mildly competent battle-droids, the horrid post-Geonosis software "update" being negated by learned experience. Kronaak was sure the war would have been won by now if Count Dooku hadn't been forced to bow to the whims of those money-grubbers who provided the droids...

"No reactor leaks? No broken conduits? No missing Vulture droids?" he asked, every step of his clicking on the smooth, hard floor of the bridge.

"No, sir." said 27. "Everything is accounted for."

"And our lovely ladies?" Kronaak went on. 27 brought up a holographic display of _Aethra_ and her encircling escort of six _Recusant_ destroyers. None of them had a crew beyond maintenance droids, their outer shells were smooth and devoid of the features that the crewed _Recusants_ had.

" _Charonia_ , _Maira_ , and _Hurricane_ report only superficial damage. _Tempest_ reports a hypermatter leak that is under control. _Moonraker_ reports seventy-seven percent hull integrity, and burst plasma relays. _Ardent_ reports eight overloaded turbolaser capacitors, a shattered comms dish, and no power from the auxiliary reactor. Repairs are still underway." The damaged ships glowed red on the display.

"I'm surprised they got off so lightly." Kronaak said. His droid-brained _Recusants_ had been acquired over the course of the war; some by assignment, some he had just taken for his own. None of them had names until Kronaak had given them that gift.

"Ours seem to be learning, sir." said 27. "I noticed a destroyer from another group crashing into one of our own frigates over Coruscant."

"Courtesy of the Commerce Guild, no doubt." He twisted his claws about his walking stick, wishing it was President Shu Mai's neck. Of all the Confederacy's backers, Shu Mai was the worst penny-pincher. "Sometimes I think our leaders meant for us to lose this war, given the droids we have to work with."

"A credit saved is a credit earned, sir." 27 recited, from _Aethra_ 's Trade Federation-era ship's manual.

"As long as our ladies can still make hyperspace, we will be fine. I doubt we'll run into any Republic presence out here. Recall the patrols and set course for..." Kronaak wasn't quite sure where they were going to go first.

"Elrood is a trade-hub, and on our side." said 27, bringing up a map of the region.

"Set course for Elrood then. After that..." He stared at the map. Askaj would have no food for trade, at least not in the amounts he needed. It was the same for Subterrel. "We'll head to Terminus next."

"That's a good distance away, sir."

"Yes, but it's the closest commercial center to us, other than Elrood. Atravis is under Republic siege, and so is Shumavar... We'll just have to try our luck. Can our escorts keep up?"

"They report ready to jump, sir." said OOM-27, before a pilot droid spoke.

"We've laid in a course for Elrood, Captain."

Kronaak nodded, and pointed his walking stick forward. "Engage."

* * *

Esera Komara was far from the first Jedi ever to be captured by enemy forces, but she might have been the first to be captured while in a hospital gown. She wasn't sure if it was luck or not that a human Separatist trooper stopped the commando droids from executing her in the hospital. On one hand, she was alive. On the other... Well, if Aspar ever found out about this, she'd never live it down. And he would find out about this.

The Separatists sent her back in a landspeeder to their headquarters, a hunting lodge high up in the hills south of the city, behind several seemingly-abandoned defensive lines. Spring had come to Shumavar, but there was still snow up here. Force-aided concentration kept the chill off her, but it would still affect her body in time. At least one of the soldiers had given her a coat to wear. "In." a commando droid ordered, in a gruff monotone.

"Didn't you hear her earlier?" asked the human trooper. "Her leg is shot, she can't walk. Get a stretcher."

"Droids." Esera muttered.

"Even we can't stand them, sometimes." the trooper said. The Separatists were very old-fashioned up here, their stretchers were carried, instead of mounted on repulsorlifts. They brought her into the hunting lodge, and placed her near a blazing hearth.

"Who is this?" asked an old bearded man, who was also sitting near the fire. "She's younger than my granddaughter, she can't be a soldier."A desk was before him, and on it, a pile of maps, both holographic displays and drawings on sheets of strange stiff cloth. How primitive!

"I'm a Jedi knight." said Esera. One of the commando droids handed him her lightsaber.

"Well, I'll be..." laughed the old man. "A real Jedi! Right here in my own home! Did my soldiers shoot you?"

"A sniper, yesterday. These ones caught me in the hospital, during this suicidal attack of yours."

"Ah... What is your name, Jedi?"

"Esera Komara." she said, sitting up as best she could.

"You have Risto Tuom, captain of this band of misfits." said the man. "Have no fear, Jedi Komara, you'll be back with your slave army soon enough. You are right, this is a suicidal attack. Consider it our way of paying respects to the late Chancellor Palpatine." Tuom laughed again, and reclined in his chair. "I hope that doesn't cause you too much offense."

"Plenty of us didn't like him either, you know." Esera scowled at him. "The man was an aspiring dictator."

"When you put it that way, I almost wish he weren't dead." said Tuom. "Could have done our cause good if the galaxy saw him for what he was."

"With Palpatine gone, we can begin the return to true democracy. This war need not last much longer. It's not too late to surrender, Captain." If Esera couldn't be a peacekeeper, at least she could be a peacemaker... Or not, as the Separatist would have it.

"Surrender? To you? Hah!" Tuom gave her a wry look. "We are not blind, nor are we deaf. We know what your friends have been up to out there. Looting, pillaging, gas attacks, massacres and executions... No, Jedi, I would not surrender to the Republic. Maybe six months ago, but not now."

Esera sighed. "I _told_ them this would happen."

"Sorry to prove you right." The Separatist captain smiled apologetically. "When your militia torched Silverfeld without any consequence more than a stern word, I knew then that this wouldn't be a war I survived. Not that I ever expected to die peacefully, mind you."

"What do you mean?"

"There's been war on this planet for decades, girl. Didn't your intelligence officers brief you?"

"Governor Dorthan has not been forthcoming about everything..." Esera said. "I only know what little I was briefed on and what rumors the clones have told me."

"It's a long story... But I suppose someone should know the truth. The short of it is, my people were the second-comers to this planet. About five hundred years ago, we arrived, and the first-comers welcomed us. There was peace for a while, but when I was your age, things got out of hand. Water rights, land ownership, petty disputes that grew into something more, until it was us versus them." Tuom rolled his eyes. "A waste of time, really. It all seems so stupid, that so many have died for so little gain."

"Well, why didn't you ask the Republic for help before it got this bad?" asked Esera.

"You think we didn't? We didn't get an answer. Not even an acknowledgment. We didn't really exist in the eyes of Coruscant bureaucrats, I think. That's just how it goes for us in the Outer Rim. Who cares about Shumavar? Who has even heard of Shumavar? No one in the Core. No one on Coruscant. Things got worse, then Dooku came. Here, to this forgotten backwater. Were we supposed to refuse his offer to make peace? Were we supposed to doom our children to live in unending war? We did what we thought we had to do. Dooku stopped the war here, he made a peace between our peoples, begrudging as it was for our foe." The old man looked at the Confederate roundel embroidered on his clearly home-made uniform. "No one really believed in the Separatist cause until you re-started the war, and the retributions began, you know."

"I've done all I can to hold them back, and I can still do more if you lay down your arms. But you need to trust in the system, this won't continue-" Esera tried to plead, but Tuom cut her off.

"I don't think so. The system failed us before, it'll fail us again. Especially now that our foe has the system's backing. I'd rather die standing than die on my knees." The human trooper nodded in agreement.

"Most of our men decided they'd rather assault your lines directly than die to gas like everyone in Erendel City." the trooper said. "It's a cleaner death."

"Don't they have families?" asked Esera.

" _Did._ " Tuom corrected, raising a finger. "I let anyone who still had family break ranks a week ago. We're all locals, Jedi. And when local cities suffer the Loyalist militias, local men feel the effects. That's why we're still here, and not back home pretending we never left."

"Captain Tuom's orders are to give no mercy to the Loyalists. Most of us remaining were from Silverfeld, lady Jedi." The trooper gave her a grim look.

Esera felt what was left of her hopes for a peaceful end crumble like ash. "My mission has failed, then." she said. Somehow, she wasn't surprised. She'd seen this coming from a mile away. But the taste of defeat was bitter nonetheless.

The old captain's expression softened. "It's not your fault, Jedi. There's too much bad blood between us, too many evil deeds. No one is guiltless in this war, not us, not them. When you favored one side over the other... I guarantee you that if you had aligned with us, they would have fought you just as hard as we are now. Peace was never an option after that choice, do not blame yourself for what others have done." He turned to the trooper. "Soldier, you may return to the front, if you like. I'll wait for them."

"Aye, sir. We'll see you on the other side." The man saluted, and departed the way he came.

The Captain sighed. "No more talk of war and sorrow, I say. We've had enough of that, and it'll be over soon enough." said Tuom. "Are you hungry?"

"I am." Esera nodded. "Thank you for your hospitality Captain Tuom, it's more than I expected." Tuom waved at the commando droid, who went off to somewhere else in the lodge.

"An enemy is someone you fight. We are not fighting, I do not consider you an enemy." He picked up her lightsaber, looking at it like a sacred relic. "Never thought I'd hold one of these. Your kind were just legends before you showed up here." He switched it on, and the green blade leaped out. "What an elegant piece of work..." Tuom's gaze swept down the shaft of light, and onto the silver handle. It had been simple and smooth once, but Esera had taken to carving leaf-work into it over the years.

"Please be careful with that." she said, cringing as she remembered a particularly gruesome lightsaber safety training holovid from her youth.

"Here," he said, switching it off, "I doubt you'll have need of it while you're with us anyway."

"Thank you." Esera said again, taking her weapon back.

"Do the colors mean anything?" asked Tuom. "I've seen a blue blade before, on the Holonet once, but not a green one."

"They used to, actually. Blue was for Jedi like Anakin Skywalker, bold warriors and defenders of the Republic. Green was for Jedi who preferred finding a more _peaceful_ way to peace... Like Master Yoda." Esera couldn't help but smile a bit at that. "But those distinctions have been all but forgotten these days. I only know because I spent all my time in the archives instead of sparring... I kind of regret it, now."

"In a better world, they'd be the ones feeling foolish." said the Captain. "Well, let's get you comfortable, it'll be a while before your clones make it here. But once you can walk, you're free to go."

* * *

Author's note: I wasn't lying about the variable length of chapters. Anyways, during the opening battle of Revenge of the Sith, there are two kinds of Recusants in the background. There's the kind that have a spine of antennas along the back and a protruding bridge above the bow, and there's a kind that just have smooth shells, with no antenna spines or bridge. I know this isn't a production fluke because the two different kinds are shown on screen at the same time in multiple shots, someone made a conscious choice to depict them that way. I choose to believe the more featureless of the two is a completely automated ship, probably designed more for patrols and escort duty than front line combat, where the resourcefulness and improvisational ability of an organic crew wouldn't be worth the cost of wages and supply in the Commerce Guild's eyes. (this is the kind of thing I think about while riding the train to class)


	5. Chapter 5: Important Choices

Author's note: Apologies for the delay. My Friday could be summed up so: "And now another problem I can't ignore has appeared." But this chapter is nearly twice as long as the last one, so enjoy it.

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

"What do you mean, you can't hand it over?" Kronaak drew himself up as tall as he could, towering over the little smooth-faced Polis Massan. "What use do you have for thirty million tons of grain?"

"W-well, Captain, we were sending it to Sluis Van-" stammered the Polis Massan.

"And that is where I wish to take it." said Kronaak. His commando droid escort stood in a half-circle behind him, their sleek, dark frames at odds with the soft environment around them. This whole asteroid base was too small for his liking, but then again, these creatures only came up to his chest.

"But- But Captain, the Republic admiral told us not to send the freighter until the world fell. Our hearts go out to the Sluissi for the suffering they endure, but we cannot risk such a precious delivery being destroyed in a premature-"

"Silence!" snapped Kronaak, stamping a leg into the floor. The Polis Massan flinched. "I have chased this grain shipment across several sectors for a day and a half, little creature; from Elrood to Terminus and back to here. My patience hangs by a thread. I am a Captain of the Confederacy of Independent Systems, the Republic's word is worth less than the dust on your asteroid to me. Furthermore, I have three million troops in orbit, against your paltry... _security._ Do you think you're in any position to negotiate?"

"No..." The Polis Massan winced as he spoke. "The Republic would have to be notified, though, we are a loyal system-"

Kronaak activated his communicator. "Commander," he said to 27, "begin landing your forces. Polis Massa is being annexed to the Confederacy."

"Roger roger." cheerily replied OOM-27, up above on _Aethra_.

"What?" squeaked the Polis Massan.

"Think of this as an opportunity, little creature. Your kind do love to help those in need, and none are in need more than the good citizens of the Confederacy who languish under Republic sieges, across the Outer Rim." Kronaak would have smiled if his mouth worked that way. "Continue your aid efforts, without the interference of bureaucracy, regulations, and _big government_ tyranny."

"I- I- We will be able to continue our excavations, yes?"

"That is your right under the Articles of Secession. Systems' rights are of paramount importance to us." said Kronaak. "We will leave a small detachment behind to ensure your loyalty to the cause. Now, may I take that freighter, or do I have to start shooting?"

"Yes, you may take it to Sluis Van." The Polis Massan bowed his head in defeat.

"I'm glad this could be resolved so civilly. Best of luck to you in your... quest." Kronaak gave a polite bow, and turned to leave with his escort, claws and walking stick clicking on the floor plates. _That could have gone so much worse..._ "Commander," he said into his communicator, "hold off on the full invasion. Send down a garrison only."

"Roger roger."

* * *

It took two more days for the clones to reach the Separatist base in the hills. By that time, Esera was back on her feet, though with a persisting limp. She'd learned all about Captain Tuom's people here on Shumavar; the second-comers, as the Loyalist militia called them. It was hard to admit that this conflict was too deep for her to end. If she'd been here from the start, and made sure the Republic didn't exclusively favor the first-comers, it all might have been avoided... But it was too late now. There was no trust between the two sides, there might not ever be any again.

Tuom was interested in her past too. "How does one become a Jedi?" he asked over breakfast that morning. "Do you just sign up to be taught magic?"

"Not so easy, I'm afraid." Esera said. "In _theory_ anyone can learn the ways of the Force. In practice, some people are just more in tune with it than others. There's Jedi who roam the galaxy, seeking out Force-sensitive children; with their parent's permission, they're taken back to the Temple on Coruscant and trained from there. It's a great honor for them. I was three when they found me, but infants are ideal. Attachment leads to the dark side, the masters always say."

"We've had a few wizards and witches here on Shumavar. Never any Jedi until now." Tuom had a wistful look on his face. "I met one once, when I was very young. He moved things with his mind, and could heal even the worst of wounds without a scar. I asked him how he did it, and he told me that he called on the life-force of the universe... To this day, I still don't know what he meant."

"He must have been a wise man to realize that on his own." said Esera. "The Force is the energy created by all things. It's everywhere, between you, I, the trees, the hills, even the droids out there. It is a powerful ally, Master Yoda told us. We can call on it, and it calls on us."

"It still doesn't make sense to me." The Separatist captain laughed. "You know, I think you're better suited to be a mystic than the commander of an army."

"I wish." Esera sighed. "My own homeworld joined the Separatists too. I can't help but wonder what has become of it."

"Where is it?"

"The planet Stalimur, it's out in the Tion cluster, not too far from Raxus." she said. "From what I read about it when I was older, it's a very peaceful place. Not at all prepared for a war, unlike your folk here."

"Well, the Confederacy is still losing, so maybe this'll all be over before the Republic reaches it." Tuom shrugged. "Or maybe not. There's been so many ups and downs that I can't predict who will win anymore. The tide turns every six months."

One of the few droids remaining walked into the lodge. "Sir," it said, "the Republic forces are nearing. They will be here shortly."

"That's it, then." Captain Tuom stood up, and stretched. "For a long time, I feared this day. But now... I feel relieved. Like a long wait is over."

"I can't talk you into going peacefully, can I?" asked Esera, knowing very well what the answer would be.

"No can do. I'm a dead man either way. Even if your clones take me alive, once you move onto the next planet, your friends will do me in. Better to take a blaster bolt in battle than a blaster bolt in the prison camp courtyard." Tuom strapped on his helmet, and picked up his gun. "Do you sorcerers know what happens after death?"

"Our energy returns to the Force, that's what most of us believe." She too stood up now.

"That doesn't sound too bad." The Captain offered her a hand, and she shook it. "I'm glad you stopped by, lady Jedi. You were better company than this lot." He nodded at the droid standing in the doorway.

"Thank you, Captain. I found more hospitality here than I do back in my own camp." Esera looked away, letting the weariness she'd felt for months show. "I wish it didn't have to end this way."

"Everyone dies, sooner or later. Might as well do it on your own terms."

"Then may the Force be with you, Captain Tuom." she said.

"And you too, lady Jedi."

That was the last she saw of the Separatist, alive at least. He and the remaining droids went off down the road, and a few minutes later she heard the gunfire, before silence fell in the hills again. Esera walked out of the lodge, and sat down on felled log to wait. In the quiet, her thoughts turned back to everything that had happened since this war began. She and her master had been all over the galaxy; Ryloth, Brentaal IV, Jabiim, and Umbara were the places she remembered best. Now here she was on Shumavar, alone. When this wretched mess started, she'd seen it as black and white as her peers did; many padawans were excited at the prospects of a _real_ war, despite their masters' teachings. Esera hadn't been excited, but she'd been willing to do her part for a righteous cause.

Learning that this war was anything but black and white had been a hard lesson. On Ryloth, she had been so sure of the justice of their cause, rescuing the Twi'leks from mechanical murderers that had invaded their world. It was the last time she'd actually felt like a Jedi, helping the defenseless and restoring peace. Later she'd hear that Senator Taa of Ryloth had been implicated in embezzling taxes from his sector. Then came her time on Brentaal IV, where she'd faced actual people in battle, and not just droids. It didn't feel right to kill them, but they took up arms against the legitimate government and forfeited any rights they had by doing so... Didn't they? Jabiim was different. She hadn't suppressed a band of rebels there, she'd fought to destroy a nation. Perhaps if Thamyris had been there, he'd have known why people with nothing to left to lose fought the hardest. Worst of all was her time on Umbara. Until then, she'd just doubted the justice of this war. After Umbara... Esera had no taste for any war, just or not.

A whole host of minor engagements and fleet actions had come between those battles, but it all blurred together. Fight after fight, slaughter after slaughter, until they reached Shumavar. _I can't do this anymore,_ Esera thought. Too many of her friends had died on far-away worlds, too many innocents had been sacrificed for pointless victory, too many had perished by her hand when she should have been helping them. This was not what the Jedi were supposed to do. This was not what she was supposed to do. That left her with the question, though: _Then_ what _am I supposed to do?_

Even Esera's last refuge, the Force, had become confused. Her master and the others had used to talk about how the Dark Side clouded everything, but for Esera and other Jedi her age, that was all they knew. It was as if murky water full of mud and sand had been kicked and stirred. Only in the last day had Esera become aware of it. She wondered if something had happened, somewhere. But she was young, and unlearned; if there was an answer, it was beyond her. There were greater problems for Esera to dwell on. _What am I supposed to do?_ she asked herself again.

The clones finally arrived, their dusty grey and brown-mottled armor at odds with the clean white snow and evergreens around the lodge.

"General!" a clone called. "Did you save any more for us?"

"This place is deserted, trooper." said Esera.

"Good to see you alive, General." another clone said. "Though I have to wonder about the Seppie clothes."

"I didn't have much choice. It was this or freeze." Esera jumped down from the log. "They burnt all their plans and documents a few days ago. There's nothing left for us, we should get back to our own lines."

The clones insisted on taking her back to base in the AT-TE they had brought up, where their medic confirmed that she was well on her way to a full recovery. They passed by the dead Captain Tuom and his droid squad on the way down the hill.

"Form a burial detail." she ordered.

"Right away, General, but why?" asked a clone. "That was one of the enemy."

"He wasn't my enemy." Esera said. "Bury him." The clones did as told.

It was clear there'd been a clash near the Republic's forward operating center. Blackened AAT hulks dotted the streets and leveled blocks, and there were a few Republic walkers among them. Separatist dead were scattered all around, and there were dozens of droids too. "It was a suicide attack," one of the clone turret gunners said, "they didn't even have a clear strategy."

"No rhyme or reason to it." the other gunner added. "They took quite an interest in killing the local militiamen, though. Some of them even ignored us clones. Do you think it had to do with that tribal _first_ and _second_ business the locals have been yammering about?"

"If you ask me, they were having some kind of race war, and we weren't invited." the first gunner said. "Awfully rude not to include us."

Captain Tuom's orders had been fulfilled then, at least to a degree. Back at the mass of tents that served as base camp, her counterpart greeted her with a false warmth. "Ah, Komara, my friend! Our lost comrade returns to us!" Ardabur Aspar threw up his hands, as if he were actually glad to see her. "I think her new outfit fits her."

"General, why are you in Separatist gear?" asked Commander Thamyris.

"I didn't want to be running around in the snow in only hospital clothes." Esera gave him a scowl. "Surely, a soldier can appreciate the need to stay warm."

"Ah." Thamyris nodded. Some of the clones at base had scrubbed off the camouflage they''d applied to their armor, and were returning to the white and red they'd landed in. "You may be interested to hear the east city is no longer a problem, General."

"Indeed." Aspar said. "With you off on an adventure with the enemy, and a surprise offensive from the south, the Governor and I decided to just bomb the whole place into the ground. The war on Shumavar is all but over. Only a handful of other cities still resist."

It took her a moment to realize what he said. "You _what?_ "

"It's just as I said, General, many of the other holdout cities surrendered this morning, once they heard about what happened here." Thamyris said.

Esera buried her face in her hands. _From bad to worse..._ "And what about the others that didn't surrender?" she asked, fearing she already knew what the answer was.

"I've given the order to have them destroyed from orbit." Aspar stated. "Another Separatist rebellion crushed. It won't be long before the rest of the Atravis sector follows."

"You understand that I have to inform our superiors of this, don't you?" she asked. This was a step too far. She could not stand by and do nothing in good conscience while her allies sowed wanton destruction like they were competing with General Grievous.

"There is no need." said Aspar, waving a hand dismissively. "We have approval from the highest level of authority on this front." He produced a datapad, and showed her the signatures on the bombing orders. There was Aspar, the two clone commanders, and then one from Admiral Bannidge Holt, the Commander-in-Chief of this theater of the war, a man recently appointed by Palpatine himself, bypassing the Jedi Council completely. "As you see, Komara, our actions are completely legal. By the end of the day, we will have brought peace to Shumavar, and ended this destructive conflict. There may be casualties now, but in the long run, more lives have been saved by our actions than yours, as much of an idealist as you may be."

Esera turned away without another word, and sought out the tent she kept her meager belongings in. Once back in Jedi robes instead of Separatist militia fatigues, she got far fewer strange looks. But what Aspar was going to do would not leave her mind. The Jedi did not bomb thousands of innocent people just to make a point! That was barbaric, that was something Grievous would do, they should have been above this... She, at least, _was_ above this. Esera would be no better than Aspar if she just stood by and let them do as they pleased. Long ago, her master had told her that all it took for evil to triumph was for good people to do nothing. She'd already stood by and done nothing once.

Her only choice was clear, then. Within the hour, Esera was on a shuttle up to the _Venator_ in orbit.

* * *

The Republic fleet was already starting to fall back, and Grievous and his task force had only arrived an hour ago. To his ire, _Invisible Hand_ had to sit at the back of the fleet, having taken substantial damage in the Coruscant raid. Instead, he'd sent another _Providence_ -class cruiser to lead the attack, a certain _Morning Star._ Where it got such a ridiculous name, he had no idea. He'd long since concluded only a few people in this war knew how to give a ship a legitimately threatening name.

Far ahead, Grievous saw the two arms of his fleet converging on the star destroyers. Three battleships and their escorts pounded away at the enemy from range, while _Morning Star_ led destroyers and frigates on a flanking maneuver that would push the Republic out of orbit. Just as planned. Whoever was in charge of that Loyalist fleet wasn't too creative, or confident, because their star destroyers began to turn tail at the first sign of _Morning Star_ 's attack.

The captain of _Morning Star_ contacted him, and his hologram blinked up beside Grievous on the bridge. "General, we have them on the run." reported the human, saluting. He wore a well-trimmed beard and a sharp uniform; one from his home world, no doubt, because there was no Confederate-issued uniform.

"Pursue them until they retreat into hyperspace." Grievous ordered. "Let the tremble."

"As you command, sir." The hologram shut off.

"Who is he?" Grievous asked to his own Captain.

"That is Captain Eemon, sir." said Dofine.

"Eemon? _That_ Eemon?" Grievous wasn't sure if he was impressed or skeptical. He'd only met the man once, and all he remembered of him was how _he_ had charmed Dooku and gotten promises out of him. It was usually the other way around... "Eemon supplied us with our gunships for the raid, but I didn't know he was in my fleet. Doesn't he have a planet to rule?"

"That would be Ado Eemon, sir, Warlord of Caramm. This is his son, Ricimer Eemon, Captain of _Morning Star_." Dofine explained. "I had my suspicions of his presence here, it was Dooku's doing, but he is holding his own."

"Then he is doing his duty by executing my plan perfectly." said Grievous. "It is refreshing to have more than a few competent commanders. Fighting for the Republic must be like this!"

"They'll need to return to their own fleets soon enough, sir," reminded Dofine, "or our other efforts will suffer for their absence."

"And then it's back to the nightmare of droids..." An idea came to him, though. "But now that I rule the Confederacy, I can order whatever I please... finding better officers included!"

"I do not mean to disrespect you, General," Dofine said, "but you do not rule the Confederacy, legally speaking. You have not been affirmed by Congress."

Grievous blinked once, and coughed. _Congress?_ He'd heard mention of such a thing in passing, before, though he never though it important. Before Geonosis, he could remember watching the live sessions of the Republic's Senate with Dooku; Dooku had droned on and on about the corruption and graft and incompetent bureaucracy to his soon-to-be allies. Grievous had thought it all trite, and assumed the so-called Confederate Congress to be the same thing with a new name. "If they know what's best for them, they'll recognize my authority without question."

Dofine didn't respond, and Grievous turned his focus back to the battle at hand. The Eemon boy was doing well, wreaking havoc on the Republic's left flank as they pulled away from Sluis Van's gravity well. Grievous knew his own plans were excellent in their quality, but his underling's ability to execute them was almost always lacking. Not today, though.

"New contacts coming out of hyperspace, sir." a pilot droid reported. Finally, some action for _Invisible Hand!_ Unless- "They're our own, sir." the droid went on.

"Ah, the crab-man returns." Grievous clasped his hands together. "Hail him."

The hologram of Kronaak flickered into being. Just seeing him made Grievous want to grit teeth that were no longer there. Kronaak stood on six legs, like a spider, and though he only showed two of his arms, Grievous knew there was another pair more hiding under his robe. His mouth was worse of all, mandibles and a mass of feelers constantly twitching; and above, four shiny eyes, devoid of any emotion. Grievous clenched and unclenched a fist, something about the crab-man's visage triggered a deep anger in him. Kronaak would need to prove his people's worth, Grievous knew that for sure, at least.

"General," the crab-man said, saluting, "I have completed my mission."

"I expected nothing less." Grievous replied, checking his internal clock. Kronaak had made it with half an hour to spare. "What do you bring?"

"In my journey I gathered nearly the entire monthly fruit export of the Elrood sector, and hunted down this month's grain harvest from the Kallea sector and beyond, thirty million tons in all." Kronaak answered, standing straight and proud.

"That should hold these serpents over." said Grievous.

"Furthermore, sir," the crab-man went on, "I have annexed Polis Massa and the Subterrel sector to the Separatist cause."

Any other general might have sputtered at such a radical action, but not Grievous. "On what grounds?" asked he, curious at the unexpected development.

"They would not hand over the grain shipment, as they claimed to be a part of the Republic. I saw no other option but to rid them of that problem."

"A solution to my liking." Grievous allowed himself a small laugh. Could it be that he had discovered two useful commanders in one day? "You have served me well, crab-man. Stand by, you will receive word when it is time to land the cargo."

"As you command, sir." The hologram turned off, and Grievous could see a _Lucrehulk_ with escorts and one _incredibly_ large freighter approaching on the sensor readout. He wondered how much space thirty million tons actually took up...

* * *

"It's rather unusual to take a one-seventy out alone." said the clone deck officer aboard _Avenger_ , the lone star destroyer in Shumavar's orbit. "Not that I'm one to deny a Jedi."

"Just get the ship ready to go." Esera said. "I've got a… secret mission."

"Will do, General." The officer saluted, before waving over two of his men. They'd have the ARC-170 cleared fly in short order. And Esera was going to need that ship, very quickly, once Aspar found out what she was going to do.

This was treason, there was no getting around it. Sabotaging Republic war material was a high crime, and one that would have her sentenced by military tribunal, or just "detained" indefinitely by current laws. _If_ she got caught, that was. Esera would have smirked, but she had very little to smile about lately. When it came down to it, it was better to commit treason then let heinous crimes go unchallenged under her watch. Doing the _right_ thing wasn't always doing the _legal_ thing, her master had taught her. Now it was time put that into practice.

Once her work aboard _Avenger_ was complete, Esera returned to the hangar. "Am I cleared, trooper?"

"Yes, General." said the clone, waving to the ARC-170. "She's all yours. We'll have an astromech up here in a moment for you."

"Good." A hint of worry twinged in her. The longer she stayed on the star destroyer, the more likely it was that her plot would be discovered. Minutes passed by, and everything continued as normal. _How long is it going to take them to notice?_ she wondered. Finally, the astromech arrived.

"This is R8-M5, one of our better performers." the clone said. R8 beeped a greeting.

"Very good." Esera said, barely stopping herself from rushing into the fighter. "Well, if that'll be all, I'd like to get going."

"Of course, General. Good luck on whatever mission you're on." The clone saluted again, and went off about his business. A ceiling crane guided R8-M5 into the astromech socket, and some deck crewmen removed the fuel lines and landing strut braces. Everything looked like it was turning out fine-

And then the alarms sounded.

" _Now_ they figure it out _..."_ Esera muttered, climbing into the ARC-170, and warming up its engines. "R8, take us out." she ordered. The droid chirped, and the fighter rose off the deck.

"General Komara," a voice, probably a bridge officer's, asked on intercom, "I think there's been a terrible mistake. It seems someone's locked down the weapons grid with your authorization code!"

"Oh." said Esera, before a second line opened up. She could feel her heat beating faster and faster.

"Komara!" _That_ voice was Aspar's. "What have you done?!" Esera sealed the canopy, and guided the ARC-170 out of its bay. Aspar must have been watching her actions from the surface, because he spoke again, moving into the same channel as the first speaker: "Don't let her escape!"

"Escape?" asked the first voice. "What's happening? Why would General Komara disable our weaponry?"

"She's a Separatist!" Aspar spat, his fury felt even through the com. "She's been plotting against us the whole time! She's even sent our strike coordinates to the enemy cities down here!"

"I am following the Jedi way, Aspar." said Esera. "I won't become a murderer, like you!"

"See?" asked Aspar to the bridge officer. "She even talks like their propagandists! Komara's been turned, she's a traitor, just like I thought! Disable that ship, bring her in!"

"Yes, sir." said the bridge officer. As Esera's fighter rushed out of the landing bay, she spotted a pair of patrolling V-wings already coming after her. They opened fire as soon as they closed range, but the ARC's shields held firm.

"R8, calculate the jump to Terminus." she said. "Engage as soon as you're clear." A series of whistles came from R8 in affirmation.

"You can't get away with this, Komara!" shouted Aspar over the intercom. "I will find you, and I will bring you to justice!"

Esera wished she had a snappy reply like a holovid hero would say, or a statement that would justify her actions. But instead, she just shut off the line. Aspar could rant about the end justifying the means all he wanted, but at least the people in the cities now had time to escape the coming orbital strikes. She'd fulfilled her duty as a Jedi. R8 reported the hyperdrive was ready, and off Esera went, to the edge of civilization.

* * *

"See?" Nute Gunray said to his fellow councilors, pointing at the holoscreen on the conference room's wall. "Another victory, just like I thought." The most prominent news services on the Confederate shadowfeeds, at least the ones present on Sluis Van, had their cameras out in force today.

"...For those just joining us, General Grievous has attacked the Republic's blockade over Sluis Van, and broken the orbital siege entirely." spoke a Sluissi reporter, standing on the edge of some spaceport. Landing ships cast their shadows on her and everyone else around, flying low. "Our analysts have concluded that this is the same task force that struck Coruscant a few days ago, based on the markings on prominent cruisers and battleships spotted there. While ground forces still remain, the new reinforcements will be able to halt their advance entirely."

The camera moved, away from the reporter and onto an unobstructed view of the runway itself, which was crowded with C-9979 landers. Their cargo was not droids, but sacks and crates. "As has been reported for some time now, starvation has broken out here on Sluis Van. The Khedive himself has fallen ill, living on the same meager rations as the common populace. We see here a massive relief effort underway, only possible thanks to the General's arrival."

" _Empty posturing_." said Shu Mai, in her Gossam tongue. " _He is just gaining popular support before he announces Dooku is dead._ "

"I didn't think that brute was capable of thinking so subtlety..." Passel Argente mused.

"Gunray, didn't you say this war would be lost if Grievous ever took charge?" asked Po Nudo, looking smug.

"I said no such thing!" The Viceory protested. "I have always been loyal to our leaders."

"Yes, now is the time for loyalty!" Wat Tambor agreed. "Unity through loyalty, victory through unity!"

The holoscreen changed to footage of Grievous himself, standing with the Sluissi Khedive on a balcony, with an assortment of officers with him. One was a spindly crustacean creature, almost as tall as the cyborg, another was a sharp-looking young human male. Both of them carried scepters, for some reason. _Even Mar Tuuk has one now,_ Gunray noted. He'd have to look into that.

"Though the General has customarily not made himself available for any comments, the Khedive announced earlier that he had known of this operation in advance. He acknowledged that the relief supplies would not be enough to impact rationing yet, but also promised that more was on the way, with no Republic ships to shoot down attempted mercy-missions." The camera cut back to the reporter by the runway. "The events here at Sluis Van today are believed by some to be the next phase of the war. Despite the reversals in the Core and Inner Rim, it is evident that raw numbers are no match for General Grievous's strategic cunning and tactical genius. The Confederacy is nowhere close to defeat, as we see here today, just a week after our counterparts on Holonet News claimed the war would be over in a few months."

"How the tables turn." Tambor chuckled.

"Still, there is one question that everyone has been asking: _where is Dooku?_ His primary aide, Shaala Doneeta, has been declining to comment since the battle of Coruscant. Given the recent victories, though, citizens of the Confederacy should have no cause for alarm. It is evident that the war goes smoothly even with the Count's current absence from the public eye. This is Seka Yuva, regional correspondent for Raxus Today." Gunray turned off the holoscreen.

"Perhaps we are not doomed after all." remarked Po Nudo.

"We were never doomed!" said Tambor, standing up and holding a fist to his chest. "This is evidence that our cause is divinely sanctioned! Never has there been a more righteous-"

" _I almost forgot you Skakoans still believed in that religious nonsense of yours._ " Shu Mai said, rolling her eyes.

"Silence, treacherous infidel!" snapped Tambor. "Your mouth is going to get you killed one day, and I am going to be there laugh as you are cast into eternal damnation."

" _There is no divine sanction, there is no righteous cause. We are still losing this war, and two surprise attacks do not change the tide. Are there any here who still have homes to return to? Are there any here who have seen a single scrap of the riches we were promised?_ " Shu Mai went on.

"She is right, all we've gained from this venture is empty coffers." said San Hill. "Besides, Grievous wants my head, I don't see this ending well at all!"

"Kooriva is fallen, and I am nearly penniless." Argente agreed. "This has turned out to be a bad deal, to put it lightly."

"Ando too," said Po Nudo, "but can we not retake these once we break the sieges here in the Outer Rim?"

" _Even if Grievous can chase the Republic out, we will never be able to push beyond. Their forces are too superior and too numerous, and upgrading ours any further will see us all bankrupt!_ " Shu Mai grumbled. " _What about you Tikkes? Have you gotten anything we were promised?_ "

"Huh?" Tikkes sat up with a start, in the corner he'd been sitting in the whole time. "I've been living on Dooku's charity since the Republic took Dac, I don't know why he kept me around."

" _See? We have gotten nothing!_ "

"Enough!" Gunray stood up. "I do not like what I am hearing. Nemoidia and its purse-worlds are occupied as well, but you do not see me ready to give up!"

"Skako resists." Tambor folded his arms, and leaned back in his chair. He must have been smirking under that pressure suit mask.

"Shut up." ordered Gunray. "I will hear no more of this. It is the path to treason!"

"Technically, we have already committed treason by betraying the Republic." pointed out Argente.

" _Treason to the Separatist cause, he means._ " Poggle spoke, in a bored series of honks and croaks. The Geonosian language was irritating to Nemoidian ears, and Gunray's patience was already wearing thin. If this lot didn't fall into line soon...

"You were Grievous's leading critic before all this, Gunray." said San Hill. "Now you practically worship the ground he walks on!"

" _Now that Dooku is dead, he probably fancies himself second in command._ " Shu Mai gave him a glare.

"And why should I not be? The Trade Federation has committed more to this war than any other-"

"Except the Techno Union." interrupted Tambor.

"The entire shadowfeed network is hosted by my ships!" San Hill said. "Without them, we would have no communications."

"Do not forget who is routing those communications!" Po Nudo too stood up now, pointing an accusing finger at the Banking Clan chairman. "Your ships are nothing but relays, we process the information!"

And then the entire Separatist Council descended into a chaos of shouting. It was the normal way these meetings had ended for the last six months.

Later that day, Nute Gunray returned to his quarters and finished compiling everything had learned about Lord Sidious, and sent it off to Grievous with little fanfare. He took off his mitre and slumped down in his seat. Shu Mai was right about one thing, even with two surprise victories, the Confederacy was losing. If Grievous didn't act soon, the Council would take matters into their own hands, most likely, and he'd go down with them. He more than anyone else knew Grievous did not react well to insults, and was prone to killing first, asking questions later. When it came down to the Council versus Grievous, Gunray would have to choose his side wisely.

After much thought, he made his decision. All he had to do now was wait for the others to make theirs.

* * *

Author's additional notes: I'm pretty sure that this chapter was supposed to end on Esera's second part, but apparently I moved the Gunray scene up from chapter 6. I'll trust my past judgment and say it's for the best, though I don't know why.


	6. Chapter 6: Wheels in Motion

**Chapter Six**

 _Blink._

 _Blink._

 _Blink_.

Obi-Wan didn't know how long he'd been staring at that blinking light above the door. Every now and then the magnaguards would inject him with some kind of raw nutrient. He hadn't seen anything brighter than their eyes, his energy bindings, or that blinking light in what felt like weeks. Maybe it had been weeks by now... His sense of time was confused. Everything was confused. Even the Force.

The cell door opened, revealing the dark hall beyond. In came four magnaguards; Obi-Wan raised his head, they usually came in pairs. And behind them was Grievous himself. He shook his head, trying to dispel any hallucination he might be having. Grievous remained, looking at him with something akin to smugness.

"Ah, General Kenobi, we meet again. I hope you've found your accommodations _fitting._ " The cyborg laughed, which then turned into a cough.

"General Grievous." Obi-Wan said hoarsely. "Let me guess, your master won't let you kill me."

"I have no master now." Grievous planted his talons in front of him, and leaned down. "I considered killing you, but now that Skywalker can never save you again, I think I will keep you here for the foreseeable future."

"You killed... Anakin?" He didn't believe it.

" _I_ didn't kill him, my droids did!" Grievous cackled again. "He was so focused on me, he forgot about the droids I brought with."

"No, that's not true. That's impossible!" said Obi-Wan. "A... a _battle-droid_ could never kill Anakin!"

"I thought you'd say that." The cyborg reached into his cloak, and took out a holoprojector.

Anakin was battling Dooku right before the Chancellor, and in a quick move severed both the Count's hands. " _Good, Anakin, good!_ " Palpatine said. " _Kill him. Kill him now._ "

" _I shouldn't_." said Anakin, holding both lightsabers to the Count's neck.

" _Do it._ " ordered the Chancellor. And Anakin did. " _You did well, Anakin. He was too dangerous to be kept alive._ "

" _Yes, but-_ "

" _Kill them!_ " Grievous roared. He flew down the steps, blades at the ready, and Anakin rushed to meet him, pushing him backwards, headfirst into the stairs. Anakin raised his saber for the killing blow, and then a droid shot him in the chest. And another in the leg, and another in the chest again, and they kept shooting until he fell. And then they shot Palpatine too.

"See?" Grievous's eyes betrayed the invisible grin he wore. "Twice the pride, double the fall, as the late Count would have said." Obi-Wan stared at the projector in shock, saying nothing. _We failed... I failed... The prophecies, the Chosen One..._ "Perhaps I'll let you dwell on the mortality of even the greatest of Jedi for a while. I'll be seeing you again, General Kenobi, but not anytime soon!" Grievous laughed again, and made his exit.

Then, Obi-Wan was left alone, and the light above the door blinked on.

* * *

It had been a week and a half since the fateful day; Coruscant's sky was hazy with dust and smoke, but at least the fires were finally out. In the darkened apartment of Padme Amidala, Bail Organa and Mon Mothma exchanged another concerned look. "Padme, we need your help in the Senate. The pro-war crowd is louder than ever, and now that Admiral Tarkin has resigned his commission and joined them, they're only going to get louder." said Bail.

"I've heard." Padme said, looking sad and tired. Ever since the battle, it was as if she had been in some kind of gloomy trance. Skywalker and Kenobi had both been good friends of hers, and she had known Palpatine for most of her life. _To lose all three in a day..._ Bail couldn't imagine such a misfortune. No wonder she'd given up on her appearance, wearing such loose and dark clothes.

"We have a chance to save this democracy." Mon Mothma added. "But we can't do it without you."

"Yes..." Padme nodded, but turned away from them, looking out the dimmed window to the city beyond. "Have they set a for elections?"

"They'll be seven months from now." said Mon Mothma. "Various senators have been rounding up support for their election for the last week. But it's far too early to tell who we'll be voting for in the end."

"Then we had better get to work." Padme said. She took a deep breath, and seemed to stand taller. "I've had a run-in with this Tarkin before, a few months ago, during Ahsoka's trial. Does he have any idea what he's doing?"

"I'd say so." Bail crossed his arms. "The pro-war party is fawning over him, calling him a 'hero of the Republic.' He's one of the few on their side that's actually fought a battle." He too had been on the front line, inadvertently, and Padme had been in harm's way more than once in this grisly affair. They'd both seen what was happening out there, and they both knew it had to end. The sooner, the better. Their political opponents, though... _Perhaps if they were the ones being shot at, they'd change the minds._

"Another thorn in our side, then." muttered Padme. "How many have gone over to them since the attack?"

"Too many." Mon Mothma said. "They're frightened. The Separatists are stronger than they thought, and the war party is exploiting that."

"Fear mongering... Always effective, with this lot." Bail let his disgust show on his face. "We'll need to put forward our own candidate. The last thing we need is someone like Orn Free Taa as Chancellor. Or worse, Tarkin..."

"Why not you?" asked Padme.

"Why not, indeed?" added Mon Mothma.

Bail was quiet for a moment. "Are you sure that would be a good idea?" he asked.

"We don't have any other options." said Padme. "If we get a pro-war Chancellor, this will never end. And it _must_ end. Enough good people have died already."

He nodded once. "I'll do it, then." _I'm going to regret this,_ Bail thought.

* * *

"Tell me, Rear Admiral, what does it take to pry a _Lucrehulk_ from the Nemoidians' hands?"

Kronaak couldn't help but feel smug at his promotion by Grievous. "It involved loyal service and strong words, Rear Admiral." His partner in conversation was Ricimer Eemon, the sharply-dressed human commander of _Morning Star,_ the cruiser that had led the relief mission's attack over Sluis Van. Eemon too had been promoted for his usefulness. He was visiting _Aethra_ , after Grievous had instructed them to think on what the Confederate fleet's next move should be. He'd discovered that the owner of the flashy _Theta_ -class shuttle was none other than this man himself.

"Strong words? There's got to be a story there." Eemon prompted, looking around _Aethra_ 's spacious bridge.

"I served as the previous captain's right hand, after he discovered my clan on Mintooine before the war, but he died in battle last year over Sullust. I took command of the ship, and despite Trade Federation requests to hand her back over to them..." Kronaak clicked his claws merrily. "I decided to keep her for myself. Seeing as how they are formally neutral, there was nothing they could do."

"You stole your ship, then?" The human looked mildly amused. "That's more exciting than how I got mine. My father tossed me the proverbial keys to _Morning Star_ like she was my first landspeeder. For whatever reason, no one seemed happy about it..."

"I can't imagine why. At least you're on Grievous's good side." said Kronaak.

"At least. Speaking of which, we have work to do."

"Yes, right this way." Kronaak took them to the conference room behind the bridge, where OOM-27 had prepared a map of the galactic military situation. Despite recent victories, there was far more Republic red than Confederate blue. The Republic had forces attacking them across the entire Outer Rim, there were few worlds not now under siege. It was undeniable that they were losing this war.

Eemon was interested in something else, though. "The sheen on this table is ridiculous." he muttered. "Were you trying to turn it into a mirror?"

"Dress to impress, sir." OOM-27 recited from the Trade Federation's captain's manual.

"I couldn't agree more." Eemon nodded. "Let's get down to business: I can't say this situation looks good. Saleucami fell last night."

"We've all but abandoned Thyferra and Yag'Dhul, at least for the moment. While it's freed up several thousand ships, they were some of our last holdings in the Inner Rim." Kronaak tapped his walking stick on the floor. "I do not think we should let them go lightly."

"But we need those ships here." Eemon said, pointing to the Sluis sector. "We should consolidate our own remaining territory's security. Send what aid we can to our Inner Rim friends, and tell them we'll be back." He then pointed his own walking stick of carved wood at another part of the galaxy. "Here is where we should focus on: everything from Boz Pity to Toola. Maybe not Toola itself, it's militarily useless, but you get the picture."

"If by picture you mean the core of our industrial base, yes." agreed Kronaak.

"Industry _must_ come first. Before economy, before propaganda, before political considerations. We cannot win if we cannot keep up with the Republic's industry. Not only do their machines out-perform ours, but they've begun to out-build us as well! And we're the ones with droids!" The human shook his head. "When my father unified our world, he did not start with the best army or the best fleet or the best factories. He had to build it all, and only by overpowering his rivals through sheer numbers did he win. Quantity has a quality of its own, he told me. And now he's Warlord of all Caramm."

"Even when we had full control of our foundries, we still could not keep up with the Republic." Kronaak said. "What do you propose we do different?"

"I fear we're going to have to become our enemy." Eemon frowned, and ran his hand over his beard.

"What do you mean?"

"Centralize the government's power. Put everything in Dooku's hands. No more Trade Federation this or Commerce Guild that. Switch over to a fiat currency and print as much of it as we can to fund as many factories as we can, producing as much material as we can. It won Caramm for my father, it could win the galaxy for us." Eemon folded his arms. "It won't be pretty, though."

Kronaak didn't even know what fiat currency was. "No, it would not. But the people will understand."

"Maybe. Morale was not good before our raid on Coruscant, the people are losing hope in our ability to force the Republic to terms. Most already have lost hope, they fight on out of spite." The human shrugged. "But with Grievous's back-to-back victories, maybe they will be inspired to go the extra step for a free future."

"The question is though, how do we buy ourselves time to do all this?" Kronaak asked.

Before Eemon could answer, OOM-27 spoke up: "Sir, if I might..?"

"Go ahead, Commander."

"We simply recreate the conditions under which we were winning the war." said the droid.

"Back when we could strike anywhere we wanted and have the Republic scrambling in fear." Eemon smiled. "Those were the days! But we simply don't have ships to spare."

Something clicked in Kronaak's mind. His mandibles wiggled in excitement. "We do have _half_ a ship to spare!"

"What do you mean?" asked Eemon.

"Do you remember _Malevolence_ , Eemon?" Kronaak clicked his claws together, and OOM-27 drew back from the table, as if receiving a revelation.

"Of course I do, who doesn't?"

"She was the prototype of her class, but all other orders were put on hold after the debacle at Antar. However, the Free Dac Volunteers completed the hull of a second ship on Pammant. I saw it when I was there last year." said Kronaak.

"But Pammant was hit by that Republic cruiser, fractured right to the core." Eemon scratched his head. "Did this hull survive?"

"It did, sirs." OOM-27 said. "They'd already moved it into orbit for transfer before the hit. At Mintooine they stripped its installed systems for use in other ships; right now it's just an empty hulk."

"If a second _Malevolence_ does not buy us time, I do not know what will." Kronaak looked at the map, and the six islands of blue that remained in a sea of red. "And we need all the time we can get."

* * *

Esera's flight from her former comrades had taken her to the strange green skies of Terminus. The planet was the last trade hub on both the Hydian Way and Corellian Trade Spine, and a gateway to both the Unknown Regions and into Wild Space. Already, she'd seen more mysterious ships here than she had in her past sixteen years of life. For the moment, she had landed her ARC on an out of the way platform at the edge of whatever spaceport she had landed in, trying to figure out her next move. Sooner or later, someone would ask her to pay for parking...

That was one problem she'd need to deal with: _money_. Republic credits were not the preferred currency out in these parts. She might have to sell her fighter for scrap. _I'll need to contact the Jedi Council_ , she thought, _someone needs to tell them about what's going on out here_. In the meantime, Esera decided to head into the city and see what she could learn.

The first thing she did was leave her Jedi robe in the fighter, she didn't need anyone recognizing her out here. Against her better judgment, she left her lightsaber behind too. This spaceport was a bustling place, but the signs of war were everywhere. Arms dealers openly displayed their wares, technicians were selling sensor jammers, shield generators, and armor plating, mercenaries waited around and discussed contracts with freighter captains.

"You heard about the Separatist battleship that was here just the other day, didn't you?" one gunslinger asked to a captain. "Asking after whatever it was they were after? You and I both know that they're willing to board anyone in order to get what they want. And the Republic too, for even more reasons than just business... Seven hundred peggats, and I will keep your shipment safe from anyone. That's my final offer."

"Fine, seven hundred it is." said the captain.

 _Business as usual in the hired gun industry_ , thought Esera.

A prime place for information in any spaceport was its cantina, but it was wise to be cautious in such places; that's what her Master had taught her. _Especially_ in Outer Rim establishments. Esera ducked into the first one she saw, a dim and smoky place. There were only a few sources of light: the bar, and the two holoscreens. She was more interested in the holoscreen than anything else. At the moment, it was playing a Huttese program, and Esera didn't understand a word of it. Even as far as Terminus, the Hutts had influence; she hadn't missed the gunslinger using Hutt currency. Over on the far wall was the second holoscreen, one that showed a static map of the galaxy. As far as she could tell, it was a war map. There was a blob of red, and six patches of blue, with red arrows piercing through them.

Over the next half hour, the cantina slowly filled. Esera didn't even notice it at first, but all sorts of people were showing up. There were local workers, spacers, merchants, and all other manner of folk gathering. "It's almost time." a Duros standing near Esera said.

"Time for what?" she asked.

"News from the war, of course!" said the Duros. "This place has a private satellite transceiver. We get Holonet all the way out here."

"Ah..." Esera looked at the screen. "What channels do you have?"

"Only HNN and official channels, none of that fancy stuff you find in the core."

"Better than nothing." said Esera.

"We get a ton of Confederacy shadowfeeds, though." an Ishi Tib added, popping up on the other side of her. "Almost all of them, come to think of it."

She should have expected that, but the alien's phrasing was strange. "There's... more than one?" Esera asked. "I thought they just had _the_ Shadowfeed."

"No, no." The Ishi Tib shook his head. "There's dozens, hundreds, maybe thousands. It's not a state-owned venture, like the Holonet."

"Madness. At least the Holonet is regulated." said the Duros, crossing his arms.

"Regulation stifles competition." the other alien quipped.

"Quiet, quiet!" ordered the barkeeper. "You all know what time it is." The patrons muttered and mumbled amongst themselves, and settled down, as the holoscreen was changed to the HNN network's channel. The reception was grainy at best; the familiar jingle of HNN's introduction played. Esera didn't pay much attention to it, it was the usual slew of updates on the Outer Rim Sieges. Everything was going well despite the tragic murder of Chancellor Palpatine, everything was under control. But when the channel was switched to a Separatist shadowfeed, she couldn't help but listen more closely. If she was going to learn anything useful out here, it'd be from her enemy.

There were two anchors, a Human woman who wore a tad too much eye shadow; and a dour-looking Muun. They sat in front of an apparently real window in a tower, looking out over an elegant city lit by a sunset. "Hello," said the Muun, "I am Nal Verik."

"And I am Sarina Crena." said the woman, with a big smile. "Welcome to this evening's edition of Raxus Today."

"We have a few stories of note for this edition." said Verik, quickly referring to a datapad. "More information has come in concerning the liberation of Sluis Van. For that, we go to Seka Yuva, our regional correspondent for the sector."

The screen switched to a Sluissi; she was suited up in ill-fitting body armor and a helmet that didn't sit quite right on her head. "Thank you, Nal." she said. "I'm here at the front line. Behind me, you can see smoke from an airstrike on a Republic artillery battery, and just moments ago, this position was hit by stray gunfire. Though the Loyalist fleet has been driven off by General Grievous, and the relief effort to save the starving populace is underway, the ground fighting continues as usual. Our forces have been bolstered by several million droids, many of which still bear damage from the attack on Coruscant last week."

She turned to another Sluissi besides her, one whose armor was much better fitting and ornate. "This is one of the Khedive's sipahis, Tewar Pasha. Sir, can you tell us about the current situation?"

"Until a few days ago, defeat seemed imminent." began the Sluissi, with an obvious accent that stretched his _s_ 's out. "Our lines held, but my warriors were starving, and many of the civilian population had already succumbed to hunger. Most of us believed we would wither at our posts before falling to the invaders."

"But that is obviously not the case." Seka Yuva said.

"No, our good General has lifted the siege, against all expectations." _Hah!_ thought Esera. Calling Grievous "good" was about as bizarre as it got. This was certainly surreal... The Sluissi warrior continued: "It is to our fellow Separatists we owe our lives, though. We and our families would not be here without their aid in sending food and medicine now that the Republic's blockade is gone."

"Typical Republicans." muttered the Ishi Tib.

"Like the Seps are any better-" the Duros shot back, only to be hushed by the crowd. Attention returned to the report:

"Sir Tewar, do you have any words to offer to our brothers and sisters in arms across the Outer Rim who are still suffering Republic sieges?" asked Yuva. The other Sluissi thought for a moment, hand on chin.

"Hope has not yet failed." Tewar said. "But if we do not stand together, we will fall. The Republic has learned this lesson, and we have not. Our fate can still be changed, though, and if our leaders are listening to this, I hope they realize that."

"Thank you, Sir." Yuva bowed, and turned back to the camera. "Yesterday, another army led by Feyd Pasha and bolstered by new reinforcements encircled several thousand invaders and clones, who were forced to surrender after two days of intensive bombardment." Footage of a long row of repulsor sleds shooting dozens of rockets of launching racks, arcing out into the night sky played, their screaming obviously toned down for audience. The scene then changed to a column of exhausted-looking non-clone and clone soldiers alike marching down a muddy road, arms behind their heads. Esera recognized the emblem of Eriadu on the armor of the non-clone humans. "This sudden reversal of fortune has come as a shock..."

More reports came in from all over the Confederate territories. Esera noticed that they kept emphasizing that war was far from lost, that the tide had changed before and it would change again, and that they needed to stand together if they were to bring the Republic to terms. _Morale is probably becoming a problem for them,_ thought Esera. But if they could hit Coruscant and kill the Chancellor... Who knew what else was possible? Then Esera heard something else from the broadcast that caught her ear:

"And apparently inspired by recent victories, the Subterrel sector, previously pro-Republic in its leaning, has joined the Confederacy. The sector is commonly considered a backwater mining region of little importance, but their support is warmly welcomed by their new brothers and sisters in arms..."

 _Now that's interesting._ Polis Massa was in the Subterrel sector, and Polis Massa was known to be friendly towards Jedi. It was a good bet that Aspar would be after her, seeking to bring his "justice" for her "betrayal," perhaps the Polis Massans would help her stay out of sight for a while? It was strategically worthless to the Republic, too, so the war wouldn't be coming there any time soon. _I'll do it,_ Esera decided. She'd go to Polis Massa.

Now, how would a Jedi get into Separatist territory unnoticed?

* * *

"It's quite a view, isn't it?" Grievous asked, looking into the blue vortex of hyperspace. The vision was almost hypnotic. The vast windows of the observation platform made him forget he was on a ship at all; and if his mind wandered too far, he'd be tempted to think he was falling.

"No, master, it's extraordinarily boring." A-4D sighed. "What are we doing up here anyway?"

" _Invisible Hand_ is my flagship, Doctor, and with Dooku gone, that means I get my tower back!" said Grievous, turning around and lightly swatting the droid's head. "It will need to be touched up, it's far too bright and empty."

"Those Sith types do like their austerity." agreed A-4D.

"And the Jedi..." said Grievous. "Your task is to make this place suitable for us."

"So draw the curtains, light the scented candles, and cover the bed in rose petals?" the droid suggested. That earned him a stronger swat from Grievous.

"You are a doctor, not a comedian!" hissed the cyborg.

"I forgot, you prefer cherry blossoms." A-4D said, unfazed by a third punitive attack from Grievous. If this droid didn't watch his mouth, he'd end up with a permanent dent in his head! "Speaking of things that make you unreasonably angry, we still have that Kenobi man in the dungeon. We've been feeding him once a day, so he's still alive, for the moment."

"Yes," Grievous growled. "I know he's still alive, you fool. I saw him the other day. For now, we will let him suffer more. But you have other work to do: bring my belongings recovered from Vassek out of stowage. I'll find something to do with them up here."

"And what about my equipment, master?" his doctor asked. "You did say _us_."

"You can do your work under the stairs, where droids belong." said Grievous. "There's that entire space under the raised deck leading to the elevator for your medical gear. And while you're at it, have this ridiculous table and these _towers_ removed." He pointed at the sunken table, and the raised communication stations to either side. "They clutter up this room too much."

"Very well, master. We have plenty of time until we reach Serenno, I think everything can be completed by then."

"See to it." Grievous turned back to the windows. Being up here reminded him of his all-too-short time on _Malevolence._ What a wonderful ship that had been! Even now, three years later, an ember of fury still burned within him that the only reason the ship had been lost that day was due to the incompetence of battle droids. Greater than the fury was the shame, though. That, perhaps, had been the moment when he realized that not only would he struggle against the clones and Jedi, but against his own droids too. His failure with _Malevolence_ had earned his own adopted home at Vassek visit by the Jedi, thanks to Dooku.

Grievous was almost glad that Dooku was gone, but now there was apprehension too. If he had anymore failures, he'd have to face Sidious on his own, assuming he ever showed his face again. It'd been a week now, and even with Gunray's new information, there had still been no contact. _Maybe he really is dead_ , he thought. Being free certainly had its appeals, but now _everything_ was in his hands, and his hands alone. The fate of the galaxy would be his to decide. The thought thrilled him.

If he didn't find anything on Serenno, then he'd give up on Sidious. Though to be honest, Grievous was primarily going there so he could get to Dooku's palace and its information before anyone realized he was dead. The notion of Ventress coming out of hiding to loot mystical artifacts had occurred to him... A rematch would be nice, but he didn't have time for that right now.

It took several days to get to Serenno, thanks to Hutt Space being barred to Separatist ships, and their route forcing them to enter realspace in occupied territory several times. Grievous clenched his fists every time he thought of the Hutts. Dooku, for some reason, insisted on respecting their neutrality, even though they allowed Republic ships in. For Grievous, that meant they were as good as on the Republic's side of the war. Perhaps his next offensive would be against the slugs? _Yes, that is a nice idea._ But it was just a nice idea, the same as facing Ventress again. While the Republic pushed in on the Confederacy from all directions, everything else would be secondary.

Grievous knew he had to cut his way through the knot of the Outer Rim sieges. Sidious said the end of the war would come not long after the Coruscant raid, but anything he said was now in doubt. For all he knew, Sidious might have been planning on Grievous's death over Coruscant in some kind of Sith game-within-a-game. Whatever he was planning, though, was defunct. Grievous had won, completely and fully. Now, it was up to Grievous to find his way out of this mess of his own making. Again, he felt the pang of _Malevolence_ 's loss. If he had that ship back, this would be all so much easier.

 _Invisible Hand_ was greeted by the defensive fleet over Serenno, and he was given clearance to land, using Dooku's own codes. No doubt the traffic controllers thought it was Dooku going down to his palace. There were many memories in this place, for Grievous. He and the Count had trained in the yards many times; sometimes with Ventress there too, which had always proven to be entertaining. They'd both learned almost everything they knew about lightsaber combat here.

The interior was a darker place, both literally and figuratively. Grievous had suffered the consequences of failures before in those dimly-lit halls, and when he entered the building, he couldn't help but feel a looming shadow fall over his spirit. But here too had he saved the Count's life, though by his actions many light-years away. After the incident on Dathomir, Dooku had been more respectful of Grievous. _As he should have been from the start_. He could not deny that the Count was an effective teacher, though. And perhaps he still could be, even in death, if he had the right information here.

"We have lots to do, doctor." Grievous said, when he and his company reached the Count's personal desk at the end of the upper hall.

"If you wish, master, I can gather all the information on the computer systems." A-4D said.

"Do so. I will investigate his belongings." Grievous was curious to see if he had any more lightsabers laying around. "And one more thing: use Dooku's codes to send out a call for a special session of Congress to meet by the end of this week. It is time to go public with this change in leadership."

* * *

The weekly meeting via hologram with Grievous was over, but the real meeting had just begun. As soon as Wat Tambor and Archduke Poggle had left, they got down to business. " _Gunray, are you in, or are you out?_ " Shu Mai asked. They'd had clandestine discussions of this for weeks, but with Grievous summoning a special session of Congress soon...

"...I am in." Gunray said, after a moment's hesitation. Nothing would have pleased him more than seeing Grievous destroyed, nothing except keeping himself alive, that was. He wasn't sure he'd remain alive for long if he went against Grievous. Then again, if he didn't, he might not live long anyway. Which is why he was doing this.

" _Good. We cannot let Grievous take control of this movement. He has no intention of fulfilling Dooku's promises to us, he does not even offer the illusion of sincerity like Dooku did. He also has no intention of ending the conflict, though this war is a lost cause._ " said Shu Mai.

"You can say that again." grumbled Tikkes. After investing his entire fortune in the Quarren Isolation League's fate in the battle for Dac, the former senator had been reduced to buying meals out of vending machines on their coreship base. _Trade Federation owned vending machines, at that_ , Gunray thought. As of late, appreciating the small things in life alone had kept him sane.

"We have lost almost everything and gained nothing." said Po Nudo. "The time has come to take what we have left and admit we've lost."

"Perhaps the Republic will be lenient with us if we take care of Grievous for them?" San Hill wondered aloud.

"Perhaps." remarked Passel Argente. "I recommend killing him. We can make a gift of his head to the Senate, as a repayment for whatever crimes they want to charge him with."

" _Dead or alive, we must act soon. If the rabble on Raxus accept his authority, they will be signing our death warrants._ " said Shu Mai. " _Viceroy Gunray, do you still have friends in the fleet?_ "

"Yes, I do." Gunray said, nodding.

" _Get them on our side. Grievous's ship is still damaged from Coruscant, we may have to destroy it to prevent his escape from Raxus. We will use whatever personal guard we have on the surface to contain or kill him. Whichever is possible._ "

Gunray could hardly believe what he was hearing. Shu Mai and the others must have had secret meetings before inviting him to join this one. It sounded like they had this all planned out, and now Shu Mai was just filling him in. They were bold, he had to give them that.

"Have you considered a local shutdown of droids on Raxus?" San Hill asked. "It would go a long way to isolating him. All that would remain would be the magnaguards he brings to the surface and whatever Raxus natives wish to join him. I can't imagine anyone would willingly fight in his name. He's an animal."

"A wise precaution." agreed Tikkes. "What can we bring against Grievous and his magnaguards?"

"Our friends in the Commerce Guild have sent two battalions of commandos from Castell. They are a match for the Republic's clone troopers, they will be more than a match for whatever local police forces Raxus can summon." said Argente. " _If_ anyone would even help him."

" _I guarantee their quality._ " Shu Mai crossed her arms, frowning at nothing. " _If Grievous is affirmed as the Confederacy's new leader, we make our move. If he isn't, we take control ourselves and negotiate a surrender to the Republic. Is it agreed?_ "

"Aye." said San Hill.

"Aye." said Po Nudo.

"Aye." said Passel Argente.

"Aye." said Tikkes.

"Aye." said Nute Gunray.

" _Then it is decided._ _We depart for Raxus tomorrow._ "

Later that day, Gunray called up Admiral Mar Tuuk. "Ah, Viceroy, it is an unexpected pleasure." said Tuuk's hologram. "I almost didn't think it was anyone important, you're using your code from the old days."

"I would hesitate to call it a pleasure." said Gunray. "I need to call in a favor."

" _That_ incident was fourteen years ago." Tuuk sighed. "If you waited this long to call it in, then I can't imagine it'll be anything nice."

"It is not nice. But here is what I need you to do…"

* * *

Author's note: Ruh roh, this is the halfway point in terms of written material, I need to get moving if I want to stay on schedule.


	7. Chapter 7: To Raxus

**Chapter Seven**

As it turned out, Republic Navy fighters could sell for a lot of money in Wild Space, if one knew the right people. Esera learned this the hard way, when she discovered just how badly she'd been cheated by the scrapper she'd sold her ARC-170 to. But lust for material wealth was not something Jedi felt. At least she had been able to afford passage on a freighter that stopped at Polis Massa, that was what mattered.

"Come on, R8." she said to the astromech droid, as they left the freighter. She'd considered selling it too, but who knew how quickly Republic agents might find it and use it to track her? No, that wouldn't do. They were herded down the terminal to customs, along with the meager handful of other passengers. Most were locals, it seemed, and went through in quick order... Then she saw the battle droids.

"Identification please." the droid said.

Esera swallowed nervously. "I wasn't aware it was required." she said.

"This is a standard security procedure in all Confederate sectors. Identification please." the droid repeated.

 _Right..._ thought Esera, feeling very foolish. _Of course they'd tighten security now that they've taken a side in the war._ "I don't have any identification with me." she told the droid. Her original plan had just fallen apart, it was time to improvise.

"I will have to alert customs. They will take you in for questioning." the droid told her. "Please step out of the line."

At least security wasn't as tight as it could be. Esera was ushered off to deal with an actual person, the Polis Massan in charge of customs at the spaceport. R8 followed, with her lightsaber hidden inside.

"It is not often we get outsiders visiting us. It has been a busy week." said the administrator, once she was escorted into his office. "Please leave us." he ordered to the battle droids. They did as told.

 _Now, isn't this weird..._ She'd never been so close to battle droids that weren't shooting at her. "I apologize about the trouble-" Esera began.

"Oh, you've caused us no trouble here. You're the first one who's been up here today." the administrator waved his hand. "You came from Terminus, so I suspect you'll say that you were unaware of the change in policy until you got here?"

"Yes, that is so." said Esera, nodding. Would it really be as simple as telling them she just didn't know about the rule change?

"That is strange, because we were sure to notify all our citizens through our embassy on Terminus." The administrator's face betrayed no expression, being devoid of anything but eyes, but Esera got the feeling he would have been smiling. "You are not a citizen of this sector, are you?"

"No..." Again, Esera swallowed nervously, feeling sweat beginning to form on her brow. She was awful at lying. They'd see right through her. _The truth it is, then._ "I'm from the Republic."

"I see."

"I'm a Jedi. My name is Esera Komara. I was knighted a few months ago."

 _That_ got the administrator's attention. He leaned in. "I see." he said, quieter. "Have you come to drive out the droids?"

"No..." Esera could see him wilt in disappointment. That just made this harder. "I'm... uh, I'm not actually with the Republic right now. Actually, I'm... I'm wanted for treason."

"I see." said the administrator, yet again. "A Jedi... traitor?"

"If treason is saving the lives of innocents, I guess that's what I am." Esera sat very still as she waited for a response. The Polis Massan also sat still, staring at her with calm, beady eyes. They must have been silent for half a minute, before the administrator spoke again.

"You wish to hide here, then?" he asked.

"Yes, that would be nice..." Esera said, with a faltering hopeful smile.

"I will take it to my superiors. For now, we will hold you here."

The Polis Massans were punctual. Esera and her droid had hardly been moved to a holding room when the administrator and another of his race returned. "This is Kruth. He's a courier." said the administrator.

"Nice to meet you." Esera answered, nodding. Kruth nodded back.

"He doesn't speak vocally, unlike me. Most of us don't, it's why we don't leave home often." the administrator explained. "But he's the only one of us who has been more than two sectors from here."

"Are you sending me to hide somewhere?" asked Esera.

"No, not exactly. Yesterday, we received a summons, apparently from Count Dooku, for a representative from the Subterrel sector to travel to Raxus and take part in a special session of the Separatist Congress. We are sending Kruth, and we want you to go with him."

Esera blinked once. "You _what?_ "

"We are sending Kruth to Raxus, and we want you to go with him." the administrator repeated, tilting his head. "Are you feeling alright, Jedi Komara?"

"Uh..." Esera felt like she was about to collapse from all the blood leaving her face. "Well, I was hoping to just lay low for a while, stay out of the way of the war, maybe get in contact with the Order and tell them the truth of things... Going to Raxus... the very heart of the Confederacy, in case you didn't know, isn't what I'd consider laying low."

"We are not a people comfortable in the wider world, Jedi Komara. We would greatly appreciate your help and protection in these trying times." The administrator gave her an insistent glare. "That is what Jedi do, isn't it?"

"Alright, alright, fine!" sighed Esera. "I'll go to Raxus with your friend here. Just... don't expect me to come back if my cover is blown. Which it probably will be."

"Thank you for your help, Jedi Komara. With luck, no one will know you were ever here."

* * *

 _This... is disgusting,_ thought Tarkin, forcing a sneer from his face as he watched the corpulent alien waddle about. Orn Free Taa was a popular name among the pro-war senators, but he was an idiot. Worse than an idiot, he was a shortsighted idiot. And now here Tarkin was, forced to play nice with alien vermin.

"...which is why I think we have no choice but to continue the war." huffed and puffed Senator Taa, as he bumbled around his office looking for who knew what. Tarkin had stopped paying attention.

"Yes, yes, of course the war must go on. And we need someone able to prosecute that war to the fullest extent." said Tarkin.

"On that, we are all agreed." said Senator Burtoni, another alien, though spindly instead of rotund. At least her people were useful, growing clones for the war. "But who?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Tarkin asked, rolling his eyes.

"Me?" Taa questioned, a stupid, questioning look on his face.

" _Not_ you." said Tarkin, in his most icy voice. "It should be me. I am a veteran, I was high in the ranks, I was close to the Chancellor before his murder. The people will have confidence in me."

"Well..." started Taa.

"What are your merits, Senator?" asked Tarkin. "Embezzlement, graft, bribery?"

Stating his crimes got Taa to fume. "Now you wait just a minute-"

"I will not wait just a minute. You are unelectable, everyone knows what you have been up to. If you want to serve the Republic, I think your best hope would be to work from the sides and not the top."

"I have been in this Senate for thirteen years, little man." growled Taa. "What do you know of its workings?"

"About as much as I know the workings of a sewer and its inhabitants." said Tarkin. Taa's glower darkened. "I am not a politician. I am a soldier. And what the Republic needs now is a soldier, not a politician."

"A soldier understands the needs of an army." Burtoni said.

"Precisely." Tarkin said, standing up. "Senator Taa, you have a great gift for corruption. Use it against the weak-willed pacifists, put me on the Chancellor's dais, and I will save this Republic, your Ryloth included. Work against me, and you may find yourself in an unpleasant spot. Thank you for your time."

He left the aliens to consider their options. If they had an inkling of wisdom, they'd know what was best for the Republic. That Bail Organa would only lead it to ruin; his love of peace would likely see them all bending over backwards to the Separatist traitors. No, that would not do at all.

* * *

Dooku's computer system had yielded information, but as was so predictable for Grievous, something had gone wrong. The man had been crafty enough to guard his secrets even in death, and A4D had triggered some kind of defensive program. Thankfully, he'd stopped the process before much damage could be done, but it left him with a pile of raw, unsorted data. "If it's unsorted, sort it." Grievous ordered.

"Master, that will take weeks!" whined the droid.

"Then you had better get started!" laughed Grievous, before he returned to his war maps.

In the meantime, _Invisible Hand_ had reached Raxus at last. The Confederacy's capital was a far cry from the ultra-urban Coruscant. From orbit, Grievous could only see scattered lights on the dark side, and very few signs of civilization on the light side. Most of the planet was wilderness, it seemed. That was fine by him, he didn't like crowds. Tomorrow, he would address the civilian government. They would follow him, or... or else he didn't know what he'd do. Bombard the planet? Go rogue? Ignore them? He already had the military's loyalty, he didn't _really_ need this civilian government. The only advantage they could give him was legitimacy in the eyes of those organic underlings who cared about such trivial matters.

For now, that could wait; Grievous had organized a conference between his most able officers. This was not a new affair, he'd done this every few weeks for the last year, it was the only way to manage such a diversity of naval assets. From across the galaxy, they arrived as holograms around a single large table. There was the famous-for-being-tricked-by-Skywalker Mar Tuuk, there was Hithlu the Umbaran refugee, there was the great escapist Rame Cartroll, his co-escapist Pors Tonith, there was the brilliant Givin navigator Alzar Khwaramenes, who alone here did not hold any rank of admiral, and the new faces, crab-man Kronaak and boy Eemon. There were empty spots, too, a testament to the growing attrition in the Confederate Navy. Most missed of all was Trench, his fellow top commanders had taken to carrying walking sticks in his memory. Grievous had no use for such sentiment, though. Trench had been exceedingly competent, but not a friend. Come to think of it, Grievous didn't have any friends at all, he didn't need any.

"I see some of you did not live through my victory at Coruscant." said Grievous, skipping introductions as usual.

"I see some of us are here for the first time." noted Admiral Mar Tuuk, the most senior officer among them, bar Greivous.

"The crab is Kronaak, the boy is Ricimer Eemon. Both have been promoted in recognition of their talents." Grievous folded his hands. "Now, what is the situation?"

"The Kashyyyk counter-offensive is going well, sir." Mar Tuuk reported. "It has relieved significant pressure from Boz Pity, though we're no closer to claiming those hyperspace maps than we were last time we met. However, morale is up for the first time in the last six months, I am confident I can deliver you victory should reinforcements be delivered in a timely manner."

 _There are no reinforcements left to spare,_ Grievous thought.

"The fighting continues at Mygeeto and Garqi. We are not in danger of losing, but neither are they." reported Vice Admiral Pors Tonith. "Ywllandar has fallen, though, and it won't be long until our position is in peril again. We need reinforcements."

 _None will be coming any time soon,_ Grievous thought.

"The Republic has moved on from Ryloth and is now attacking Tellanroaeg." said Vice Admiral Rame Cartroll. He sagged in his seat, his uniform was wrinkled, his eyes sunken, and he looked like he hadn't slept in a week. "To put it simply, the Second Fleet is finished as a fighting force. My recommendation is that it be combined with the First Fleet in the Sluis sector. But if you would have us fight to the end, we will."

Grievous waited for someone else to speak, but that was it. Admiral Piast was missing, Grievous realized. Hopefully he wasn't dead, he was the last commander of note near Serenno. And everyone else here had been with him at Coruscant, and were now lifting the siege of Triton. _The attrition_ , he reminded himself. It was only going to get worse if things kept up like this. _Killing Palpatine was supposed to turn the tide in our favor... Coruscant was the decisive battle, we won! But the situation continues to deteriorate! Why would Sidious and Dooku have me give up the initiative and let the tide turn if their master plan wouldn't guarantee victory?_ "There are fewer of you each month." he growled. "Stop dying."

"Easier said than done, General." Vice Admiral Hithlu said, grim as always. "The liberation of the Sluis sector is continuing as planned. Most of the Republic forces are regrouping at Eriadu, including those stationed in the Atravis sector. Interestingly enough, a small fleet left Shumavar, but did not go to Eriadu."

"Shumavar?" Grievous scoffed. "Who cares about Shumavar?" He hadn't even heard of it until just now.

"Merely an interesting observation, General." sighed Hithlu.

"It is of no matter. I am disappointed in the lack of progress being made. Dooku assured me that my attack would cripple the Republic's ability to make war. Either you are doing something wrong, or he was wrong, and I was not one to doubt the Count." said Grievous.

"The Count was wrong." said Commodore Alzar Khwaramenes. "As I said at Thyferra, sir, there was a ninety-six percent chance this raid would change nothing in the short term. The absence of Palpatine will only start to hurt in the long run."

"How long, skullface?" asked Grievous, slamming a fist on the table hard enough to make himself cough. "We are running out of ships, we are running out of droids, we are running out of territory, we are running out of _time!_ "

"At least another two months, sir, by my calculations." said the Givin. "The had has been cut off, the body will thrash and flail, but it will rot. Eventually."

"It had better." Grievous turned to the two newcomers. "Crab, boy, you have done as I asked you to?"

"We have, General." said Kronaak. "I am not a learned creature, so I will leave this to Admiral Eemon."

"Thank you, Rear Admiral Kronaak." said Eemon. He smiled smugly, leaning forward. "For those not in the know, the General has decided to test our competence by thinking up a new strategy to win the war. Let us begin by asking: have you ever heard of total war?"

"I cannot say I have heard that used as a specific term before." Grievous admitted.

"My father invented it. He dedicated our nation, every factory and every machine, every field and every farm, every man, woman, and child, to making war. One hundred percent of the economy was given over to the war effort. He erased the distinction between civilian and soldier, they all furthered the war in their own way. Every single one." Eemon held up a finger to drive home his point. "He did not care for corporations, he did not care for profits, he did not care for luxuries or trade or anything of that sort. All that mattered was destroying the enemy. And he did."

"I can see the merit in this 'total war.'" said Grievous.

"It is our recommendation that we move the Confederacy's economy to a total war condition, so to speak." Kronaak stated. "We have drawn up a plan on how to achieve this."

"Speak." ordered Grievous.

"It's quite simple, really." Eemon clasped his hands together. "First, nationalize everything. Second, switch to a fiat currency that we can produce at whatever rate we need to, so that we are no longer reliant on third party loans. Third, mobilize the entire population in whatever ways we can to contribute to the war effort. Fourth, streamline production of war materials and produce them in as much volume as possible."

"Nationalization?" Mar Tuuk was incredulous. "That'll drive our corporate sponsors right over to the Republic for good!"

"Fiat currency is an idea for university professors." Pors Tonith shook his head. "And universities are the only places where ideas that don't work can survive. If we break with the Banking Clan, it'll be economic disaster."

"This would be a direct counter to our principles!" exclaimed Rame Cartroll. "We are fighting against all-powerful governments, not fighting to create another one!"

"The boy is right." Hithlu said, rolling his eyes at the others. "You either fight to win, or you don't fight at all."

 _It's true,_ Grievous thought. As wild as Eemon and Kronaak's ideas were, at least they had a plan. It was better than going along with something that obviously wasn't working. "I will take your words into consideration. Give me a full write-up by tomorrow."

"We... We already have one, sir." Kronaak said. "We just didn't think you'd actually ask for it."

"Reading has never been in your style, General." said Alzar Khwaramenes.

Grievous growled, and then coughed. "You have your orders."

"There is one more thing." Eemon said, his smile growing even smugger.

"What?" sighed Grievous.

"General, you are quite right that we are running out of time. Rear Admiral Kronaak and I know our plan would take time to implement. Fortunately, there is something that just might buy us the time we need, to relieve pressure from our industrial worlds now under siege."

"And what would that be?" he asked.

Kronaak clicked his claws, and added another projection to his own hologram. Grievous's eyes narrowed when he saw what it was. "What does my flagship from two years ago have to do with this?" he asked.

"This isn't _Malevolence_ , sir." said the crab-man. "This is _Cataclysm_ , her sister ship. After the Antar disaster, all work was suspended, but the ship had already been launched. She's a hulk in orbit of Mintooine right now, awaiting scrapping."

"Sister ship?" Grievous leaned in closer to the hologram display. _Cataclysm_ was much the same as _Malevolence_ in shape... just with no guns. The mounts were there, but the turrets were gone.

"Indeed." Kronaak nodded. "She is empty right now, no weapons or other internal systems beyond powerplant and engines. We believe that could be remedied within three months of work."

"Less, if I were in charge." Eemon said. "I doubt you know this, but I was in the logistics corps of my father's army before this war. I am no great strategist or visionary tactician, but I know a thing or two about supply and transportation."

"You would need to divert resources from other building programs." Mar Tuuk said. "I am not sure that is wise."

" _Malevolence_ was a product of flawed naval strategy." spoke Admiral Hithlu. "There will be no decisive battle in this war, attrition is how it will be won. We need cheap ships we can replace, not priceless star dreadnoughts."

 _No decisive battle?_ Grievous thought. That was news to him. He'd need to speak to Hithlu more. This Umbaran was standing out today. Perhaps he'd always been like this, and Grievous had never noticed...

" _Malevolence_ was a raider, not a tool for the illusory decisive battle." Eemon replied. "Her speed was her chief weapon, which we believe was underutilized. A fast, hard-hitting ship capable of supporting herself could wreak untold havoc behind Republic lines. Unlike the early days of the war, the Republic is now spread thinly across the Outer Rim. Our success at Coruscant shows how vulnerable the Core and Colonies really are."

"Need I remind you that _Malevolence_ 's fighter screen failed against a single bomber squadron?" asked Grievous.

"Vulture droids are cannon fodder. Tri-fighters would be the only option for _Cataclysm_ 's fighter screen." Kronaak stated.

"Expensive." noted Mar Tuuk.

"Necessary." Eemon corrected. "Complete this ship with some modifications, give her top-of-the-line equipment, and put a competent commander in charge, and you would have a very dangerous raider."

"And what modifications would those be?" Grievous asked.

"Double the fighter compliment, add a bomber wing or two, use an organic officer staff." said Kronaak.

"The expenses continue to grow." Mar Tuuk gave the two new admirals an unamused look.

"By a factor of eighteen percent." added Alzar Khwaramenes.

"If we keep placing profit above military advantage, this war will end soon, and not in our favor." Eemon said. Hithlu nodded, and Grievous found himself nodding too.

"Very well. Rear Admiral Eemon, complete this ship as you see fit. Leave the funding to me. We need to remove pressure from our Outer Rim holdings, whatever the cost." Grievous commanded. "Now, there is something else you all should know. I have already informed our corporate sponsors, and I intend to inform this _Congress_ tomorrow. Count Dooku is dead, and has been dead since Coruscant. He was killed by Anakin Skywalker moments before my droids killed him in turn."

There was silence from the collected officers. Only the occasional buzz of static from the holograms interrupted it. There was shock and worry, but some relief too, from a certain admiral.

"I always thought he was leading us to defeat." Hithlu was the first to speak again. "Who leads us now?"

"I do." said Grievous.

"Good." The Umbaran smiled darkly. The other officers didn't look nearly as pleased.

"Keep this to yourselves until my address tomorrow. Send in your full reports, we will reconvene when I have decided our next move. Until then, your orders are to hold the line... Except you, Vice Admiral Cartroll, pull back to Sluis Van and repair your ships. You all are also to begin searching for promising commanders in your ranks. I grow tired of incompetence, and now I no longer have to tolerate it." With nothing more to say, Grievous shut the projector off.

* * *

Author's note: I knew I forgot to do something yesterday. My apologies. In this chapter, we meet some notable tertiary characters in the form of Grievous's best officers. Don't worry about remembering their names, I'm going to introduce their full names and race whenever they show up. Some will show up more than others.


	8. Chapter 8: First Encounter

**Chapter Eight**

Wherever Esera went, winter seemed to follow her. Spring had just begun on Shumavar, but on Raxus, the first snow of the year had just fallen in the northern hemisphere. Kruth the Courier had proved an awful traveling companion; she'd done the math, he only spoken an average of five sentences a day on their journey. The Polis Massans were, true to what she'd heard, a quiet people. It didn't help that his 'speaking' was actually just typing things out on a datapad for her to read or recite. If he tried to speak to the Separatist Congress like that... Well, it wouldn't be proper.

Esera spent the five days it took them to get to Raxus either sleeping or meditating. Or trying to meditate. The Force was still in that same turbulence that had begun when she heard Grievous had attacked Coruscant. _Why?_ she had wondered again and again. What had happened? The spread of the confused turmoil in the Force had been slow enough that if she'd still been in battle, she probably wouldn't have noticed it. But every time she sought peace in the Force, it was stronger. Esera wished her master were here. He'd have an answer.

The arrival at Raxus was a relief, her journey was at an end, but it was also frightening. "I shouldn't have come..." Esera groaned again, as they passed through the defense fleet in orbit.

 _Now is not the time for fear, Jedi. That comes later,_ Kruth typed out.

"What do you mean, later?" she asked. "What are you planning to do? And don't call me Jedi in public! They'll lynch me, or something!" None of her statements got a response from Kruth, though.

The snow glistened a golden orange in the setting sun as they came nearer to the surface. Esera was thankful they'd set their dispatch vessel to Raxus time after leaving Polis Massa, they'd gotten over the hyperspace lag already. But hyperspace lag was a tiny problem compared to her current situation. Here she was, on Raxus, the heart of the Confederacy, with R8-M5 as her only ally in the world. If she was caught, that would be it. Game over. _Fear is the mind killer,_ her master had told her, but she felt it all the same. When they landed and the security droids came up to their ship, the shaking returned to her hands and knees, and she began to sweat. They were just battle droids, but they could bring something far worse down on her.

Luckily, the droids suspected nothing. Kruth wrote to her that no one cared about another human among hundreds of billions in the galaxy. As long as she didn't break out her lightsaber and start using magic powers, she'd be fine. The lightsaber at least was hidden in R8, who was going to stay with the ship. Still, Esera could hardly sleep. It didn't help that the ship's beds were designed for Polis Massans... Kruth was too cheap to find an inn or hotel in the city. To be fair, it was likely none of them had Polis Massans in mind any more than this ship had humans in mind.

In the morning, they put on their best clothes. Kruth wore his most formal scientist's lab gear, as science was serious business among his people. Esera's best clothes were actually her least suspicious; mostly second-hand stuff she'd picked up on Terminus. Almost all of it was too big for her, and smelled heavily of industrial-strength cleaning regents. Who knew who had worn it before she got it; whatever they needed to clean, it probably wasn't something nice. They trudged through growing snowdrifts and hitched a ride on a skybus.

 _We must be the only delegates going to Congress on public transit,_ Esera thought. Next to her, an obese Koorivar breathed heavily through a congested nose, and ahead, someone was eating a to-go breakfast with as much slurping and chewing as possible. At least some things were universal in the galaxy, no matter where one went. They had a good view of Raxulon from the bus; it was a much more open city than she had expected. In the summer, it must have been very green, with all those bare trees lining the snowy streets. Getting into the Congress building was surprisingly easy. Esera was amazed that the droids merely checked Kruth's clearance before waving him in. They didn't even go through a scanner! Compared to the endless security theater on Coruscant, this place really was a world apart.

"This is so weird..." Esera whispered, when they entered the actual Congressional hall. The wood panels and green leather cushions were one thing, the fact that she was actually inside the enemy government's own meeting place was another. They found their designated seats and began the wait for this special session to begin. Esera couldn't help but wring her hands and tap her foot.

 _Do not get jittery,_ Kruth wrote to her.

"Jittery!?" she hissed, meaning to tell him what, but someone interrupted.

"Hi!" chirped a female's voice. She was almost human, and almost as young as Esera by the looks of it. But the pointy ears and red eyes made it clear she was something else. If Esera had to guess, she'd go with Sephi. "I'm Lirka! I've never seen you here before, who are you? Are you the Subterrel delegates?"

"Uh..." Esera looked at Kruth, who just nodded, before he went back to ignoring everything around him. "Yes, we are representing the Subterrel sector. This is Kruth, and I'm Esera-" She cursed internally, she was supposed to be using a different name here! "Yeah, I'm Esera. I speak for him."

"Neat! You joined us just the other week, so I'm not surprised they haven't given you the proper clothing yet." said Lirka. It was then that Esera noticed all the other Separatists were wearing a grey and blue robe. All of them, from the green-skinned woman at the head of the chamber, to a Sluissi coiled up in the corner, to this Lirka. Esera suddenly felt even more out of place than before.

"Oh... We weren't aware." she said.

"Don't worry, it's just for special sessions where the Count is here in person! Like today!" Lirka beamed brightly, and rubbed her hands together. "I can't wait!"

And then the fear came right back. Maybe if she pretended she was sick, she could get out of this... "So," Esera went on, trying to act normal despite her rapidly growing unease, "um, where do you come from?"

"I'm from Thustra." said she. _Yes, definitely Sephi then._ "My sister and I used to work with Senator Navi on Coruscant, but then the King switched our allegiance, and the Senator got involved, he had a plot to kill the King, the King died, and it was all just a horrible mess. The Senator got arrested, and they wanted to put us under arrest too, so we went back home. The new King asked me to be the delegate to Raxus, since I already had experience. Of course, I said yes, because he's the King, I can't refuse his command! I was kind of scared at first, I made my sister come with me, but this place is actually really nice! Well, some of the people aren't, the arguments get pretty hot in here, I don't like to argue. The fashion scene here is great, though! I mean, the eye shadow thing was a bit odd at first, but I've gotten used to it. Do you think it's overdone?"

Esera could only stare at her in silence. Three weeks ago, she'd been fighting the Separatists street to street on Shumavar with her clone troopers, too exhausted to even protested when the Governor's militia had gassed the rest in their bunkers and tunnels. Now this Separatist was trying to be friendly and babbling on about fashion trends. Her mind could not comprehend it.

Lirka saw her change in mood. "It's too much, isn't it?" she asked, sighing. "I knew it. These Raxus girls really do go overboard."

 _Is this what I'd be worrying about if I was normal?_ she wondered. _Is this what normal people think about?_ For a moment, she wished she could forget about this whole war and be like Lirka. Ignorance really was bliss. Before Esera could answer, a hush fell over the hall. Everyone looked to the podium at the head of the chamber, where the green-skinned woman was standing aside. Two magnaguards came through the door, placing themselves on either side of it. _Dooku is here!_ Esera thought, trembling. Dooku was almost the last person in the whole galaxy she wanted to see, the only person worse than him would be...

Grievous adjusted his cloak one last time. It was the white one with the quilted red liner that drew completely around him, he reserved it for special occasions. Announcing Dooku's death and his assumption of direct control over the Confederacy would be a special occasion for sure. Even the magnaguards got to switch out of their stained and torn cloaks today. He sent two of them in first to signal the civilians that it was time to stop talking. _This is it,_ he thought. Grievous had tried to write a speech, but he was no good at that. He'd just make it up as he went, as if he were addressing his commanders. Normally, he would have felt annoyed at having to do this, but he felt strangely at ease today. He stepped through the door himself, and into the chamber.

Immediately, the last murmurs of conversation went dead. Silence fell over everyone. There was already a civilian up here on the podium with him, gaping at him in shock. Grievous stared at her until she got a hold of herself. "General Grievous... It is an unexpected... pleasure to have you here. I am Congress Leader Voe Attel, representative of the Corporate Alliance. What brings you to our hall? Where is Count Dooku?"

"That is why I am here." Grievous said. "Turn the microphone on." The woman did as told, and Grievous looked over the entire chamber. There were no camera droids hovering around here, instead they had fixed cameras mounted high up on the walls. Still, low tech or not, they were being watched. Attel spoke first.

"Let us begin this special session of the Confederate Congress." she announced to the hall. "We... recognize General Grievous, and yield the floor to him."

Grievous coughed, and let his eyes scan the civilians seated below. "Three weeks ago, Count Dooku and I led a raid on Coruscant, intending to capture the Republic's Chancellor. We succeeded in this goal, but I was informed that the Jedi would make an attempt at recapturing their precious Chancellor. Not hours later, two Jedi boarded my flagship in the midst of battle. The Count was with their Chancellor, I decided to join him. And this is what I saw." Grievous pulled out a disk from his cloak, and searched for a place to plug it in.

"Down there." whispered Attel, nodding to the long table bisecting the floor. He turned to this other side, seeing one of those serpents he'd become familiar with on Sluis Van.

"You, plug this in." he ordered, tossing it down to him.

"Yes, sir." said the serpent, who promptly did as told. The three-dimensional security recording was projected into the air, showing the unconscious Kenobi under the fallen catwalk, and Dooku dueling Skywalker, with Palpatine watching from his prisoner's throne. Suddenly, Skywalker grabbed the Count's arms and sliced off both his hands. The entire chamber gasped in shock, but the show had only just begun.

" _Good, Anakin, good!_ "laughed Palpatine, as Skywalker held both blades at the Count's throat. " _Kill him. Kill him now._ "

" _I shouldn't._ " Skywalker said.

" _Do it._ " ordered Palpatine. Skywalker hesitated, and then decapitated the Count. Again, the civilians gasped and cried out in horror. Attentive watchers would have noted that the elevator door had opened, and Grievous had just stepped out with his guards.

" _You did well, Anakin. He was too dangerous to be left alive._ " said Palpatine. Skywalker released his grips.

" _Yes, but-_ " The two noticed they were not alone anymore.

" _Kill them!_ " Grievous heard himself roar, charging down the stairs with all four sabers drawn. An unseen force knocked him backwards, his head hit the steps, and then a hail of blaster fire slammed into Skywalker's chest. Palpatine was gunned down moments later. The recording ended there, leaving the civilians shocked as Grievous had been that day.

"As you see, Count Dooku is dead. He has been dead for three weeks. I do not trust politicians, though, and declined to inform anyone beyond my best commanders of what had transpired, until I could deliver the news in person to this government. I come before you now to accept your oaths of allegiance." Grievous had gotten that last line from a half-recalled memory, of a fire-lit hall and kneeling figures. That was surely a suitable thing for a ruler to say.

If it was, no one was reacting. A stunned silence reigned in the hall. While he waited for a response, Grievous looked at the faces in the crowd. The diversity of creatures present did not surprise him. All eyes were on him... except two. Halfway down the left side of the hall, in the second row, a human woman was not looking at him. No, that was just a girl, not a woman. She was too young to be a politician. She wasn't in those grey and blue robes either, and neither was the mouthless creature next to her. _Subterrel,_ their seats were labeled. That was the sector the crab-man Kronaak had annexed. But the girl, she wasn't looking at him. She was checking all the exits in the chamber. That was _not_ civilian behavior. Grievous took a closer look with his augmented vision. There were a lot of humans with black hair in the galaxy, there were a lot of humans with blue eyes, there were a lot of humans wearing old jackets... Still, she was suspicious. Maybe even a Jedi. Dooku had told him one made it in here before, that Ahsoka Tano brat. He sent a silent signal to his guards to keep an eye on her.

Finally, someone did something. A Bith stepped onto the floor. "We do not give allegiance to any mere warlord. The Confederacy is built on higher standards."

The serpent he'd sent to play the recording, who was still on the floor, replied: "Under the Constitution of the Confederacy of Independent Systems, the Supreme Commander succeeds the Head of State in a time of war." said he. "We do not have to give our allegiance, by law, he has it already."

"Then what are we waiting for?" exclaimed a burly man, rushing onto the floor as well, before pointing at the green woman at Grievous's side. "Hey, Voe, swear him in already!" She just rolled her eyes.

"If we let Grievous take control, then this war will never end! He lives for war and nothing else!" shouted a human woman.

"I am already in control!" Grievous said. But it was too late, no one was listening, because half the chamber was suddenly on the floor arguing with each other. Grievous was bewildered. After dealing with the cowardly, sniveling corporate tycoons like Nute Gunray and San Hill, Grievous had expected much of the same from this lot. Instead, this place had turned into a madhouse in a matter of seconds. He didn't know if he liked their fighting spirit or was annoyed that they dared refuse him. He turned to Attel. "Is this supposed to happen?" he asked.

"The more we lose in the war, the angrier they get." she sighed. Grievous just growled.

"SILENCE!" he boomed. Everyone looked up now, even the suspicious girl, who was still seated. "In case you forgot, I have a war to win for you. Laws, standards, ideals- do you think they'll matter when the Jedi and their slave-soldiers are burning down this city? That is your future without me."

"You couldn't even kill Palpatine!" someone shouted.

Before he could stop himself, Grievous had vaulted over the podium and slammed down onto the floor with a thunderous crash. One of the wooden boards cracked under his talons, and the shock made him cough. He drew himself up to his full height, towering over them all. "Who said that?" he asked.

And to his immense surprise, someone did step forwards. It was the woman who had spoken before. She was short and stout, and her hair had gone entirely grey. "I said, you couldn't even kill Palpatine." She walked right up to him, arms crossed, with a defiant scowl on her face.

Grievous was bewildered again. This was the part when they were supposed to grovel and beg for mercy! "What is your name?" he asked.

"Tyreca Bremack, Agamar sector."

"Do you have any regard for you own life?"

"Not so long as my people suffer under Republic siege." she said. "If you couldn't kill an unarmed old man, how are you going to protect us?"

"My droids killed him quick enough, on my order. A general does not always do things himself. Otherwise, he would be no general at all." he said. _Shouldn't I have killed her by now for this behavior?_ Truth be told, Grievous was fascinated that someone in the galaxy had the guts to speak like this to him. Fascinated, but angry. The only reason he _hadn't_ killed her where she stood was because he wanted to hear what incredible thing she'd say next. Yes, that was why.

"Well, you've done a sorry job. You live for war, but you can't win at it! How many times have the Jedi defeated you?" she asked.

Grievous clenched his fists. "I have turned a thousand armies and a thousand fleets into one! I have been shackled by concern for corporate profit margins since the very first day! I have had to manage this war at _every_ level because of the sheer incompetence of the underlings you've deemed fit to send me!" He whirled around, and started stalking about on the floor, a hand held behind his cloak, the other pointing emphatically. "No one else alive could have achieved what I have achieved, despite all this! You civilians know nothing of what I have had to deal with. You can reject me if you choose, and I will laugh as you are crushed. Or you can acknowledge my authority, and I will finish what Dooku started. Will you have defeat, or will you have victory? You have until tomorrow morning to decide." With that, Grievous left out of one of the side exits, his magnaguards departing the podium stand as well. The hall exploded into argument again.

Once outside, his thoughts turned to the suspicious girl. "Bring her to me." he told one of his guards. "And do it quietly."

This had been the most whirlwind day of Esera's life. She was taking part in a session of the Separatist Congress, a chatty Sephi Separatist was constantly talking to her, Dooku was dead, Grievous himself was physicallyin the same room as her, someone had talked back to Grievous and lived to tell the tale, and now the Separatist representatives were getting close to a brawling match on a live broadcast! Who knew what would happen next?

A hand tapped her shoulder. Esera turned, and her heart froze at the sight of a magnaguard. "Come with me." it said.

"Huh?" Lirka turned away from the raging 'debate.' "What does Grievous want with you, Esera?"

"The General requests your presence, and he requests you come quietly." said the droid.

Esera felt faint. She couldn't beat a magnaguard, not even with her lightsaber, which she didn't have right now. Beating Grievous without a lightsaber? That was right out! _What would my master have done?_ He would accept death with dignity. He'd shown her how.

Esera knew that if she spoke, she'd start stammering, so she just nodded.

"Tell me what he said when you come back!" Lirka said. Kruth just gave her a sorrowful look.

 _I'm not coming back!_ Esera wanted to scream.

The magnaguard took her outside the chamber, and through a door that said _Restricted Access_. They went up some stairs, and came into a bare hall lined with windows. Grievous stood with his back to her, looking out over the snow-dusted city. "Who are you?" he asked, without turning.

"The Sephi called her 'Esera.'" the magnaguard reported.

"I didn't ask you." Grievous said.

"Yes. That's my name." Esera squeaked. "Esera Komara." _Get it together! These are your last moments!_ she scolded herself. Now, Grievous did turn. He was even bigger and scarier than the pictures in the intelligence reports made him out to be.

"You are not a civilian." he said.

"N-no." Esera swallowed, her stomach twisted, she felt sick. The cyborg walked right up to her, looming so high over her that he blocked out everything else in her vision. He smelled vaguely of oil and linen _._ She wanted to laugh at that absurdity, she wanted to cry at that being the last thing she ever smelled. _How pathetic!_ she scolded herself. 

"I have only fought one foe in this war that uses child soldiers." Grievous said. "I've even killed some of them myself."

"I''m- I'm seventeen, actually." she said.

"As I said, a child." Grievous chuckled. That was a strange noise, coming from him.

"If you're going to kill me, at least let me have a little dignity!" she sighed, sounding far too whiny for her own liking.

"You want to die with dignity?"

"Fine, no dignity. Just get it over with!"

"No. Why is a Jedi girl sitting among Separatists?" he asked. "This is the last place one of you should ever be."

"I didn't plan for this, alright? The Polis Massans said I could hide with them if I kept their guy safe here for this session. It was either that or they'd turn me in." she said.

"And why was a Jedi girl trying to hide?"

"Because they think I'm a traitor!"

"Are you?"

"No! Alright, maybe yes. It's complicated! Why do you care?"

Grievous looked at his guards. "A traitorous Jedi?" he asked them, amused. "Let me guess, you turned to the Dark Side?"

"No! Never!" she exclaimed. "I- I- I-" Esera hid her face with her hands, trying to push away everything she was feeling right now. Guilt, anger, fear; they all could lead to the Dark Side, and they all weighed heavily on her. _Stay calm, Esera,_ she told herself. It didn't work.

"You what?" Grievous asked.

"I sabotaged the weapons grid on the star destroyer, because they were going to destroy those cities with everyone in them. They had the orders from Holt and everything. I couldn't let them do it. I couldn't!" Esera said. "All my life I was told to do what was right, to help the helpless and defend the defenseless, to go in peace and have goodwill to all living things- What was I supposed to do? Stand there and let more evil happen? I couldn't do it. I wasn't going to let it happen again. I made a choice, and I chose what was right!"

Grievous stared at her, a deadly seriousness in his eyes. "What a sentiment." he said.

"Yeah, well, what would you know of right and wrong?" she spat. Her fear momentarily deserted her, the anger rose to its place. "You're a butcher, you're a murderer, just like Aspar and all the rest! They want me dead, you do too! So just do it already!"

"You seem very eager to die." Grievous tilted his head, giving her a bemused look.

"I don't _want_ to die!" Esera seethed, trying to hold onto her anger as best she could. The fear was returning already. "But there is no way in hell I could ever beat you, or even escape from this planet, so I don't see much of a choice here! All I want is out of the war. I can't do it anymore. If this is how it is, so be it." She breathed deeply, and let her hands fall to her side. "I'm ready."

The cyborg took a step back, and reached inside his cloak. _This is it,_ Esera thought. No, she wasn't ready at all. Three years as a normal child, eleven as a Jedi in training, three more dragging the galaxy into chaos and bloodshed- was that it? Was that what her life amounted to? Esera had accomplished nothing. No one would remember her, except as a girl knighted too young because her master had died and they needed more generals, who snapped from the pressure and disappeared. No one would ever know she was killed here, in some service hall in the Separatist Congress building. Her parents on Stalimur would always wonder what happened to their child, who was sent off with a Jedi and never ever returned, they would never know she died so close to home. She wished she had more time, she wished she'd been able to make more of a difference, she wished none of this had ever happened, she wished she was back at the Temple, she wished she'd never been taken by the Jedi. The cold claws of fear clamped down on her heart, and Esera closed her eyes, trying not to tremble. She waited for the hiss and hum of the lightsaber.

But it never came. When she opened her eyes again, Grievous was just staring at her with a troubled glare. He had a saber out, but it wasn't activated. He was still as stone, not even blinking. The magnaguards watched impassively. "Go." he finally said.

"What?" Esera asked in a tiny voice.

"You are not worth killing." Grievous muttered, waving at the stairs. "Go and hide, if that is your fate."

She ran for it, back down the stairs and out the door, and back into the chamber where the debate still raged. Esera collapsed back into her seat, breathing ragged breaths. Her hands shook so badly she had to hold them together. _What just happened? Why did he let me go?_ That wasn't what Grievous was supposed to do! He was supposed to fly into a bloodlust and kill her mercilessly!

"Hey, are you alright?" Lirka asked, but Esera didn't answer. Even Kruth gave her a concerned look. "Wow, Grievous must be really scary to get you so upset." Kruth typed something on his pad. "I know, right? I can't imagine what got him to notice you. But you're right, she doesn't look well."

"I'll be fine." said Esera, wiping cold sweat from her brow. "It was just... an intense encounter. Maybe I should go back to the ship, Kruth."

"Ship?" Lirka frowned. "You're staying in your ship? How'd you get here?"

 _Skybus_ , Kruth typed out.

"How base, how vile!" said Lirka, repulsed. "That simply won't do for representatives of the Confederacy! I've got my own airspeeder, you can come stay with my sister and I."

 _Take her_ , he wrote. _She does not sleep well on Polis Massan beds._

"It's settled then!" cheered Lirka. "You're coming with me, Esera!"

She was in no condition to protest. Esera let herself be dragged away, too shocked to believe she was still alive.

 _What just happened?_ Grievous asked himself, watching the Jedi girl flee away. He'd been moments from killing her, the saber was in his hand, but something stopped him. _She reminded me of someone_ , he realized. This girl, Esera Komara... There had been someone like her in his life, once. Who? When? Where? Grievous couldn't remember. He looked at the weapon he was holding, and put it back in his cloak.

Never before had he willingly let a Jedi escape. On Coruscant, he'd left Shaak Ti tied up so that she could tell the others of her failure, but that was different. He gained nothing from letting this girl go. A month prior, he would have killed her without hesitation. Today, he'd not only spared the Jedi girl, he'd spared that uppity politician too. What had happened to him? Did those chips his doctor took out really effect his behavior that much?

It was an unpleasant thought. As the politicians argued, Grievous summoned his shuttle, and descended through the Congress building. It was mostly empty, except for some droids here and there. Every now and then, he came upon a civilian official or caretaker; their jaws dropped open and they scrambled out of his way. Grievous paid them no mind, he was deep in his own thoughts. By the time he reached the building's own landing pad, his shuttle had arrived, and he was quickly returning to orbit. Try as he might, he couldn't stop thinking about that Jedi girl.

 _A traitor..._ How unusual. A Jedi that didn't turn to the Dark Side had betrayed the Republic. To stop what sounded like an orbital bombardment, no less. She was very adamant that it was the right thing to do. The girl had conviction, and she acted on it, no matter how weak and sentimental it might have been. And then she'd come here, to Raxus. Obviously, she was terrified, it'd shown on her face despite her claim she was ready to die. But she'd stood firm nonetheless, waiting for his strike. He knew the Jedi were supposed to be fearless, but this one clearly wasn't. Still, she stood her ground. She didn't cry, she didn't beg, she held onto dignity, to what she must have thought was the very end. Her courage was undeniable, and Grievous felt a seed of begrudging respect for the girl. He'd never thought he could feel anything but loathing towards Jedi.

And then Grievous had another realization. Whenever he thought of the Jedi, he felt nothing but a burning hatred, a rage that blotted out everything else. For the first time, Grievous wondered why. They'd done something to him, they had to have! A bomb, that was it, wasn't it? They'd bombed his shuttle, and then he became a cyborg. And they bombed his shuttle because...

 _Why did they bomb my shuttle?_

Was he that much of a threat? What had he done to warrant such an underhanded attack from the Jedi? They never did underhanded things, they were too _noble_ for that. Grievous was from Kalee, he was Kaleesh, he had fought for Kalee. He fought the Huk, he remembered that. The only thing he hated more than Jedi were the Huk. The Jedi... the Jedi had fought him, he supposed. That must be why he was an enemy of the Jedi. Who had he been, on Kalee? That serpent, the Khedive of Sluis Van, had called him a _lord_. Had Grievous been of high birth? Who had his family been? What happened to them? Where were they now? Did he even have a family?

 _I know nothing about myself_ , Grievous thought. The last three and a half years of his life from awakening as a cyborg had been fighting and training, fighting and training. He hated Jedi, he fought clones, he raged at droids. That was it. And now here he was, possibly about to become the leader of the entire Confederacy... He didn't even understand what the war was about, come to think of it. Corruption? Big governments? Jedi needed killing? Grievous didn't know.

Once back in his quarters on Invisible Hand, the questions in his mind only bothered him more. "Doctor!" he barked.

"Yes, master?" the droid asked, emerging from under the stairs of the elevator platform. "I hope this is important, I'm very busy sorting that data we got from the Count's computers."

"Why are we at war with the Republic?"

"What?" A-4D seemed to scowl at him. "I don't know that, master! I'm a doctor, not a politician!"

"Get back to work." Grievous grumbled, turning away to look out the windows to snowy Raxus below. What a weird day this had been.

Author's note: The alternate title was "In which Esera meets a genki space elf, an ornery cyborg, and realizes her life went horribly wrong at some point in the past." Anyways, I'm gonna come out and say this right now, she does not remind Grievous of his huk-killing waifu. This isn't a romance, just check the tags. Oh yeah, Lirka is an actual (old EU) canon character, she showed up on a single page of a comic in 2004 and was named in an out-of-universe source. Talk about obscure, huh? Everyone with a name has a reason to be in this story, including those politicians. Like last chapter, don't worry about remembering them, I'm not gonna throw tertiary characters that had one scene ages ago at you and expect you to know who they are like Robert Jordan did.


	9. Chapter 9: Setting the Mood

Author's preliminary note: So, I made it eight chapters before vanishing for more than half a year. That's what happens when school reks you and then you get a (nearly) full-time job, on top of other distractions (muh chinese cartoons). I didn't entirely stop working, though. I've managed to finish several chapters over the last few months, and now I'm going to post them in at regular intervals until this arc of the story is completed. What did Timewatch mean by "arc?" An attentive reader will note that our two main POV characters, Grievous and Esera, have met for the first time in chapter eight. All secondary POV characters, like Kronaak, Tarkin, Organa, Gunray, and Obi-wan, have been introduced as well. We still have yet to meet some tertiary characters and "guest" characters, but that's for later. Anyways, chapter eight concluded the introductory arc of the story. Now, we move into the next one. So without further ado, let's get this show on the road. Again. Temporarily.

 **Chapter Nine**

"This is incredible." Bail Organa said again, shaking his head. "Not only did the Chancellor die in that battle, but Dooku did too? Who leads the Separatists now?"

"It must be Grievous. It has to be." said Mon Mothma. The two were lurking just outside the Senate chamber, taking a quick break from the mind-numbing on-goings Mas Amedda was overseeing, for lack of any driving force in Palpatine's absence. "Who else would lead it?"

"Maybe one of their own senators. Representatives. Dignitaries. I'm not even sure what they call their government. Parliament?" Bail shrugged.

"Congress, I think."

"I can't imagine Grievous running a government. Not after all that we've heard about him." Bail took another look through the entrance to his pod; nothing important had come up inside the chamber, the senator of Humbarine was droning on about aid packages.

"I don't trust anything I hear on the news." Mon Mothma said, frowning at a camera droid that hovered into view. "Our media is subverted to the interests of the state."

"We serve the state, Senator Mothma." Bail reminded her.

"We strive to improve the state." spoke his counterpart, giving him a cool look. "We do not seek its empowerment for the sake of empowerment."

"Yes, yes." he sighed. "Just like Padme said: the bureaucracy expands to meet the needs of the expanding bureaucracy."

"You would do well to remember it, if you're going to stand for election to the Chancellorship."

"If I don't, I'll never hear the end of it from you and Padme... 'Chancellor Tarkin' also has a sinister ring to it, if you ask me." No, he didn't like the idea of Tarkin being elected at all. He barely knew the man, but from what he had seen of him during the Tano girl's trial, he didn't like him. That brought up another thought: "If Grievous is now leading the Separatists, do you think peace is even possible? He's a bloodthirsty madman, from what the Jedi say."

"That remains to be seen." Mon Mothma sighed. "Everything rests on our counterparts on Raxus being able to control him. Given how Dooku bypassed them so often... I have my doubts."

* * *

If Esera thought her day couldn't get any weirder, she thought wrong. Lirka, who had just met her not two hours before, dragged her down through the Congress building to the basement parking garage. Esera noticed she had the most absurdly long hair she'd ever seen on anyone, coming down in a long tail to her shins. She was tall, too, as tall as any clone trooper. _Everyone is taller than me,_ Esera thought, though she was barely aware of it.

"Here it is, my very own speeder! It belonged to my last boss, but now we own it!" said Lirka.

It was more of a luxury skycar than anything else, huge and shiny and chrome. "I see." Esera said.

"Don't worry, I've got a droid pilot. Come on in!" Lirka didn't even wait before pulling her in by her jacket sleeve. The inside was just as spacious and glamorous as the outside, someone had paid good money for this thing. Most likely, Esera would have been awed before the war.

"Are we going far?" she asked.

"A dozen kilometers, about." said Lirka. "Sirka –that's my sister, by the way– and I have a house in the country. These human-built cities... They're not really our thing, no offense."

"I'm not a city person either." Esera sighed. "Oh, there's a droid on the ship I came with. Could we pick him up?"

"Of course!" said Lirka.

Lirka talked for almost the entire ride, short as it was in such a vehicle. As to what she was talking about, Esera wasn't sure, she stopped paying attention. They flew over snow-capped roofs, and then snow-covered fields, and then snow-dusted trees, before setting down. "Welcome to my home!" she said, pushing Esera out of the skycar. R8-M5 tumbled out after them, beeping in dismay. The Sephi's home was a lot more modest than what she was expecting. It was made of stone and timber, and was about the size of that hunting lodge she'd stayed in back on Shumavar.

"It's very nice." said Esera.

"Inside, inside!" Lirka commanded, already shivering in the winter air. In they went, leaving their shoes in the entry hall for some reason, before entering the rest of the house. Esera didn't know what the Sephi homeworld was like, but she assumed the interior of the house mimicked it. Woodwork was everywhere; synthetic material was entirely absent. The main hall had a hole cut in it, like a cave lined with bricks, and in it were small burning logs. Esera had never seen an indoor campfire before.

"Oh, hello." said the woman that could only be Sirka. She looked the same as Lirka; her face, her eyes, even her hair was worn the same. Exactly the same. If Esera had to guess, they just weren't sisters, they were twins. _No wonder some old politician hired them as "aides,"_ Esera thought. Given Lirka's behavior, they probably had no real talents beyond looking pretty- But that was an awfully rude thing to think about the person who was welcoming her into her home. _Have some decency, Esera!_ she scolded herself. A bad day was no excuse to be mean to others, especially for a Jedi. "Have you made another friend, Lirka?" asked Sirka.

"I have!" Lirka said, grinning. "This is Esera, from Subterrel, wasn't it?"

"Sure." said Esera.

"She's here with the delegate from that sector! We met at Congress today."

"Please to meet you." Sirka said, standing and giving her a slight bow. "I am Sirka, elder sister of Lirka."

"By ten seconds…" muttered Lirka. They were definitely twins, then. "Anyways, she's here because her delegation came by ship and have nowhere else to stay."

"All of them are here?" asked Sirka, looking concerned.

"Well, half." Lirka put her hand on Esera's shoulder. "It's a Polis Massan ship, so the lodgings aren't designed for humans. Representative Kruth is staying on the ship. I thought Esera would be more comfortable here. Sephi and Humans are pretty alike."

"That's a small team." remarked Sirka.

"Polis Massans have no experience in politics. Kruth was the only one of them who had ever gone more than two sectors from home." Esera explained.

"And Esera reads what he writes on the datapad." said Lirka.

"Sounds like a job better suited for a droid..." Sirka said. "But if you're staying with us, we'll be happy to have you. Guests are always a blessing!"

The two Sephis were quick to try to make her feel at home. They set her up in a spare room, which to Esera's relief had a bed much more suited to a human body. R8 even got a power-charging port. Then they had lunch; after three years of war, Esera had learned to eat whatever she was given and be grateful for it, too. Even if it was some strange-tasting vegetable soup

Both Lirka and Sirka were very curious about Subterrel. They seemed to have both decided that Esera was from the sector's name planet; unfortunately, Esera had never been there. She stumbled and stammered with her answers. How was she supposed to invent information about a planet she'd never seen when Grievous himself had almost killed her not three hours ago? Every time she thought about that, she was forced to relive the whole moment over again. What had happened? What made him change his mind? Why did he spare her? It just didn't make sense. The galaxy's most notorious killer, the tyrant of worlds, the warlord of the Separatist droid armies, the one who hated Jedi more than anything else, had let her go. _Why?_ Why had she been given a second chance?

"...she does look troubled." Sirka was saying.

"See? She's been like that ever since General Grievous wanted to speak with her." Lirka said.

"Maybe she's one of his secret agents, and he had bad news for her?"

"Don't be silly, Lirka. She's way too young. No more than forty."

"Isn't forty middle aged for Humans?"

"I'm not sure... It's so hard to tell with them, they grow up so quickly."

"I'm seventeen, actually." Esera interrupted, breaking out of her own thoughts.

"Seventeen!?" scoffed Lirka. "I didn't even leave home until I was thirty!"

"I told you, Humans grow up fast compared to us." said Sirka. "Still, seventeen is a bit young to be out on your own, even for one of your own kind. Where are your parents? Do they know you're on Raxus, attending Congress?" Sirka smiled at the thought. "They must be very proud that you've risen so high in life already."

"Uh…" How was she going to explain this? "I haven't seen my parents in a while. They… they sent me to be an apprentice… of a miner."

"An apprenticeship in… mining?" Lirka looked skeptical. "Why'd you get sent to Raxus then?"

They had her now. "Um…"

"Maybe you're right about the secret agent thing." Sirka whispered to Lirka. "I don't think she's from Subterrel."

"What's a secret agent doing out on Polis Massa though?" Lirka wondered.

"It's a complicated story." Esera said.

"So you _are_ a secret agent!" exclaimed Lirka.

"No! I'm just saying… How I got into the situation of assisting Representative Kruth is complicated."

The sisters were skeptical, but didn't press the issue further. _Great going, Esera, way to not look suspicious at all,_ she thought. They had to be wondering what Grievous wanted with her, though. Luckily, Sirka changed the subject, and the chat went on. Esera retired to her room and tried to meditate, but once more, found the Force in turmoil. She was about to try and get some sleep when R8's lights came on, and beeped at her.

"What is it?" she asked. R8 beeped again, and then projected a hologram of Kruth. He held up that datapad, and showed her what he'd written. "A message from Polis Massa for me..." Esera read. And then the hologram flickered, and switched. She was met with the familiar figure of Ardabur Aspar.

"Hello again, Komara." Aspar said, smiling his false smile. "Somehow, I'm not surprised to find you on Raxus."

"What do you want?" sighed Esera, sitting down on the floor-level mattress she'd been provided with.

"I just thought I'd see how my treacherous counterpart was doing while I had the chance." he spoke.

"Well, I'm not butchering innocents, so I'd say I'm doing well." Esera said. Aspar rolled his eyes.

"There she goes again, about to launch into a lecture about how we have to follow the Jedi code, trying to be just like her master." He lost his smile, and gave her a bored look. "But like her master, she's too shortsighted and idealistic to realize the Jedi Order has failed because of its own stubborn refusal to let go of an outdated dogma."

They'd walked this path before. It was a debate spreading all through the younger ranks of the Jedi. They'd heard of Pong Krell and Bariss Offee, and others like them: Jedi who had lost faith in the way, who had fallen into darkness because it was the only path they saw left. Aspar was among those who thought the Jedi code was at fault for this. Esera thought the war was at fault for being at odds with the Jedi code.

"Nothing to say, hmm?" Aspar went on. "You never struck me as a confident person. You cling to the old ways because anything else scares you. I've sensed the fear in you, I've sensed the doubt, so don't pretend otherwise. And I can't entirely blame you, after what happened to your master-"

"That's enough!" snapped Esera.

"My, my, I've struck a nerve." said Aspar flatly. "I'll dispense with the taunts, then. We've already informed those idiots on the High Council you've run off to Raxus. As far as they and anyone else are concerned, you are a traitor to the Republic who needs to be tried and executed. And unlike the Tano incident, you've already admitted your guilt. Don't try coming back to tell your version of the story, they already know the truth."

Once again, Esera wished she had a witty response, something that would make Aspar look foolish, something that would save her the shame of sitting here dumbly. She gave it her best shot. "I really wonder how you convinced the High Council that bombing cities was a justified action."

"It wasn't me who informed them, it was Admiral Holt. He and I agreed that all they needed to know was that you interfered in operations against Separatist resistance in favor of the Separatists." Aspar said. "You're a traitor. I wish you weren't, but you are. It makes me sad, you might have been worth something with better influences. Maybe we'll meet again, Esera."

With that, Aspar's transmission ceased, and was momentarily replaced by the administrator from the asteroid base. "Hello again, Lady Jedi." he said.

"I take it you heard that whole conversation?" asked Esera.

"I did. Don't worry about us, your friend came alone and in secret. He didn't cause any trouble. But I'm afraid if we want it to remain that way, I'm going to have to request you don't return." said the Polis Massan. "We are sincerely thankful for helping Kruth get to Raxus, but we must preserve peace here. I'm sure you can understand."

Then the that transmission was cut too. "R8, can you contact the Jedi Temple through Kruth's ship?" Esera asked. R8 beeped, and hummed, before shaking back and forth as if to nod. Esera gave him her codes, but when she tried to open a line to the Temple, she found her access denied. Just as Aspar had said.

 _They've written me off,_ she thought. They'd abandoned her. They'd betrayed her. Just like Ahsoka Tano, the Council had turned their backs on her, without even bothering to hear her side of things. Esera's eyes watered, and she clenched her fists. _They're the traitors! Not me! I did what was right when no one else would!_ And they cast her out! Now what was she going to do? Now where would she go? Those answers would not be easy to find. Esera breathed slowly, and tried to find peace again.

Later on, Lirka came in. "I just came by to-" She paused, smile dropping away. "Hey, you look pretty upset. Again. Are you alright?"

"I got banned from Polis Massa." said Esera. "And my home will not take me back."

"What? Why?" Lirka knelt down by the bed, looking outraged. "That's ridiculous! What did you do to deserve that?"

"It's complicated." That was the only answer she could give. Lirka frowned, and put her hand on her shoulder.

"Well, don't worry about it." said Lirka. "You can stay here as long as you need to. But in the meantime, it's dinner! We're going to watch the broadcast about today's Congress!" She bounced to her feet, and made for the door.

"Hey, Lirka?" Esera asked, before she left.

"Yes?" answered she.

"What makes you think you can trust me? You didn't even know me until this morning. You don't even know who I am or where I came from. I could be anyone, yet you invited me here."

"Call it intuition." Lirka answered, with a happy smile. "I doubt you're actually a miner from Subterrel, but whoever you really are, you seem like a decent person."

"I do try." said Esera, under her breath. If she didn't know better, she'd say she had made her first friend since the start of the war. And she was a Separatist at that. The Force did work in mysterious ways...

* * *

"This ought to be good." Rear Admiral Kronaak said to his comrade in planning, Rear Admiral Ricimer Eemon. They'd gathered with the other officers of the fleet at Triton to watch the daily broadcast of the Confederacy's biggest news outlet, Raxus Today.

"I still can't believe Dooku is dead." said Eemon.

"I'd already predicted the outcome a week ago-" Commodore Alzar Khwaramenes began to say.

"Sssh." hushed Vice Admiral Hithlu, the eternally shady Umbaran and acting commander of the fleet.

The two most famous anchors in the Confederacy appeared on the holoscreen. As always, they sat in front of a window that showed them a view of Raxus's capital, though it was night on that planet at the moment. "Hello," said the Muun, "I am Nal Verik."

"And I am Sarina Crena." said the woman, with a big smile. "Welcome to this evening's edition of Raxus Today."

"And what a day it's been." said Verik. "Early this morning, at the start of today's special session of Congress, General Grievous himself came to deliver news of Count Dooku's death, may he rest in peace. After that, he announced his request that the Congress recognize his authority as the new Head of State. To put it lightly, this was a matter of some controversy with the Congress."

"On that subject, we've arranged an exclusive interview with Representative Wayne Horthy of the Sujimis sector." Crena said, as the screen split in half to show a burly-looking Human man being attended by a medical droid. It looked like he'd been in a fight. "Good evening, Representative Horthy."

"Good evening." said Horthy, raising a hand like he meant to tip a hat that wasn't there. He settled on nodding instead.

"We've heard that you've had quite an interesting day." Verik said.

"Oh, it's been interesting, I'll tell you what." Horthy laughed. "We haven't had a session this full in six months! I think just about every sector that hasn't been conquered by the Republic sent someone here today. Hell, even some conquered sectors managed to get representatives out! Good on them, I say."

"I'll ask the question we're all wondering." spoke Crena, smiling slyly. "Is the Congress going to vote in General Grievous as the new Head of State, or not?"

"Well, that's a tough one to answer." Horthy put a hand on his chin. "We got a lotta folks here who think the time has come to negotiate with the Republic. They think the war is lost. They think the General will just prolong the inevitable, and make the coming defeat harder than it needs to be."

"And what do you think?" Crena asked.

"Me? I think we're gonna win! Put the General in power, I say, let him loose! We'll crush them all!" the man boasted. "The tree of liberty's gotta be littered with the blood of patriots! Chancellor Palpatine was not my Chancellor, he was a dictator and probably planning on ruling for life. The Senate is corrupt and we were taxed without representation. When my ancestors first settled Fallowan, they believed in a simple phrase: live free or die. Well, the time has come. We've joined the Confederacy to live free, or die trying!"

"No one can doubt your convictions, Representative Horthy." Verik said. "However, what do you have to say about your counterparts who desire peace?"

"Peace, huh? I bet Bremack's been on here talking about the power of non-violence or something crazy like that. I'd say-" The camera shook, and another human barged in onto Horthy's screen, one with a sharp, gaunt face, and close-cropped hair; he was wearing some kind of military uniform. "Arcus Cirrus, get out of here!" Horthy scolded. "This is my office!"

"No!" said Cirrus. "The media fears the truth, but I must speak! It is not with mercy and pacifism that the great debates of our time are settled, but with fire and blood! Do no rest until the Republic is destroyed! Kill the plutocrats, class war now!"

Horthy succeeded in pushing Cirrus away. "Sorry about that, you know how Cirrus and his lot can be."

"Yes, we've all heard of their heroic resistance against the Republic and its terrorist proxies." said Crena. "Though the views of the Jabiimi National Worker's Alliance are sometimes too extreme for the tastes of most of our audience."

"I agree with Representative Cirrus on one thing, for sure: this war must be prosecuted to the fullest extent in order to secure the future of this Confederacy. Only General Grievous can do this." said Horthy. The medical droid finished patching him up. "Obviously, some of my friends in Congress saw differently."

"Thank you for your time, Representative Horthy, the hopes of the nation are with you all." said Verik. The split screen vanished, and the focus returned to the two anchors. "General Grievous has long been a controversial figure in the Confederacy. No one knows who he really is, or where he came from. Indeed, he only made his public debut at the Battle of Hypori, six months after the war began." A grainy still image was shown, of a battle-worn Grievous caught in a spotlight; gun camera footage from a Republic gunship. A cyborg general that fought on the front lines and defeated even Jedi in hand-to-hand combat immediately caused a sensation in the Confederacy, Kronaak remembered. His fame had only grown since, until he became a household name as common as Dooku or Palpatine or Skywalker. "What we do know is that General Grievous is a cunningly brutal, or perhaps a brutally cunning warrior. No other Confederate commander has a record that can match his. This is not necessarily a good thing, however. General Grievous is as infamous for his disregard of collateral damage as he is renowned for daring strategy. Republic sources even say he is the perpetrator of multiple massacres and enslavement operations, though they offer no proof, of course."

Kronaak's claws twitched. He didn't appreciate that accusation. Grievous might be harsh, vindictive, and spiteful, but he was no slaver! _Does the Republic have no shame?_ he wondered briefly, before realizing that no, they did not have shame at all.

"At this point, no one knows what it would mean to have General Grievous take command of both the war and state functions." Crena took over for her partner, and the screen showed various stock clips of the rare times Grievous had ended up on camera over the course of the war. "No one thought the late Count Dooku would die before the war ended, so the constitutional clause that named the Supreme Commander as his successor in times of war was overlooked until now. General Grievous has never even been approached by our reporters, let alone given himself the chance to deny an interview, so we really have no idea what his true intentions are. As we heard earlier from Representative Dodra F'ass of the Mayagil sector, there are even fears that Grievous might turn the Confederacy into a military dictatorship..."

After that, Kronaak drifted into his own thoughts. He'd grown up under a military dictatorship on Siskeen, which had been overthrown by another military dictatorship, and then moved to Mintooine, where a military junta ruled, and then joined the Trade Federation fleet, a paramilitary force, and then found himself in the fledgling Confederate Navy, a true military force. Kronaak's entire life had been spent under the auspices of military authority. He wouldn't mind it if Grievous became a dictator. After all, as Eemon had told him the other day, a single strong leader could change history in a way that a rabble of lesser men could never hope to match. If Grievous did seize power, the Navy would surely side with him, as would the Army. The civilians would only be able to grumble. Kronaak wondered how easy a coup against those fools on Raxus would be...

* * *

"A dictator?" Grievous laughed at the news broadcast he'd been listening to. "I like it!"

"Oh no, they've given him an idea..." A-4D sighed, as he cleaned Grievous's cloak of dust.

"I would be able to fight this war as I wished, at last!" Yes, he liked that notion a lot! "I will consult my commanders, perhaps they might make a better government than this lot."

"Master, would that really be wise?" the droid asked. "Your commanders need to focus on the war, not politics, I would think. But what do I know? I'm just a doctor."

"Hmm... Yes, there is that too. We will see how tomorrow goes." Grievous wondered how easy it would be to take over the Congress building before the politicians made their choice.

* * *

The lights were going out in the Congress chamber. Night had fallen long ago, and the clouds had been swept away by what only could have been a stiff wind, showing the stars above. If Corlissi Ludar squinted hard enough, he could see points of light moving above. Not stars, but ships from the fleet in orbit.

"Sixteen hours to reach a decision." Tyrecka Bremack yawned.

"Back on Coruscant, it would have taken sixteen weeks. If not that many months." said Ludar. "We Sluissi are a patient people, but even I have my limits."

"Don't remind me." Bremack groaned. "I have to admit though, I've come to like these face-to-face confrontations. It's so much more personal than pods."

"It will always be a wonder how an advocate for peace likes confrontation." Ludar said, as they exited the chamber.

"And I will always wonder how an advocate for war dislikes it." sighed Bremack.

"Without a decisive victory, the Republic will never recognize us." he said. "It's that simple."

"You overestimate their resolve. We both know what kinds of people we're up against on Coruscant. And we're both here because we hate them."

"Yes, that is so." Ludar agreed. "Do you think Grievous can do it?"

"He's our only hope." Bremack said, frowning. "Who would have ever thought we'd say that about Grievous?"

"Certainly not I." As they left the building for a bit of sleep, Ludar spotted some workers still moving about. "Didn't your shift end hours ago?" he asked the Gossams. They looked at him, but said nothing. Well, it wasn't his problem.

* * *

Author's concluding note: I noticed the dividing lines between POV switches were missing last chapter. Didn't realize it until a while after my "disappearance" though, and I didn't want to give anyone false hope by taking it down and reposting it with only some lines added. I use three asterisks to divide them in my documents, apparently the doc manager here eats those whole for some reason.


	10. Chapter 10: Sudden, but Inevitable

**Chapter Ten**

The hour had come. After a day of waiting, the General Grievous would receive the decision of the Confederate Congress. He was almost excited for what was going to happen. Would he be able to continue the war, or would he have to go rogue? Both options were appealing.

Grievous stood before the silent Congress chamber. The green woman from the other day was gone, but he hardly paid it any mind. At length, one among them stepped forward. Or rather, slithered, as it was the serpent. Corlissi Ludar, Grievous had been told his name was. "General Grievous," he began, speaking up to him from the floor, "in accordance with the Constitution of the Confederacy of Independent Systems, you are now, by law, Head of State. However, given your lack of political experience and your unrestrained personality, this Congress has deemed it necessary to remind you that this is a _democratic_ government. You will be held accountable by this Congress, and you will follow all laws, past, present, and future passed by this Congress. Swear to uphold and defend the Constitution from all threats within and without, and you will have the allegiance you seek."

 _Bold, most bold,_ thought Grievous. He narrowed his eyes, but saw no other choice before him. "I swear it." Grievous said, raising a hand. If all came to naught, then he'd just ignore this toothless shadow government as Dooku had.

"Then it is done." Ludar spoke, bowing his head.

"You have chosen wisely." Grievous said, wishing again that he had the ability to smile, if only to intimidate his inferiors.

"I only hope that is so." the serpent sighed. "You are the last hope of the Confederacy, General. We cannot deny that the odds are against us."

"I have known this for some time. Which is why, as Supreme Commander, I have a list of requests..." He stopped, and looked to the cameras recording the chamber. "But that will be saved for a more private discussion. I will not pretend I know much about politics of a _democratic_ government. I am a war leader, not a politician. Therefore, I ask that this Congress submit their recommendations to me."

"Count Dooku declined to form a cabinet, but that would be my recommendation." said Ludar. "You will need ministers to help handle the affairs of government."

"Very well." Grievous nodded. "I will leave it to this Congress to choose them. Know that I do not tolerate incompetence, cowardice, or greed. Those who impede me end up removed from my path. Send me people who have spirit and ability, if any exist among you. Until then, I will be taking care of war matters."

He turned, and left to exit, his two magnaguards following. But as Grievous opened the door, he suddenly lost contact with the signal of the two guards on the other side. Momentum carried him through before he could stop himself, but he only needed a single second to react to what he saw coming at him.

* * *

When the two magnaguards leaving the podium turned on their electrostaffs, Esera knew something was wrong. When they were felled by a hail of blaster fire, she knew something was _really_ wrong.

"What just-" Lirka began to say, but Esera grabbed her by the arm and bolted for the nearest exit. More blaster fire followed, and chaos erupted in the chamber. "Gunfire isn't normal here, Esera!" Lirka said, looking alarmed.

"I didn't think it was!" answered Esera, pulling her into the hall. "I don't know what's happening here, but if I had to guess, someone isn't happy you just appointed _General Grievous_ to office."

"Yeah, maybe." said Lirka, glancing up and down the hall. Armored figures appeared at the far end.

"You! Halt!" they ordered.

"Um-" Lirka began, but Esera just pushed her again and ran.

"Go!" she shouted. More blaster fire followed, aimed at them, and aimed well. Only a sense of danger through the Force gave Esera the warning to make a sudden twist to the left, and a red bolt slammed into the wall ahead of her. It would have shot her straight through the heart had she not moved. "Through that door!" Esera pointed at the one that said restricted access, where Grievous had contemplated killing her yesterday.

Lirka did as told, and they went up the stairs into the service hall. "Why is this happening?" she whined, looking back down to the door. "What do we do?"

"When lacking orders, find a suitable defensive location and hold your ground..." Esera recited the Grand Army of the Republic's doctrine. But they couldn't do that, they were unarmed, because Esera's lightsaber was with R8 in the basement garage. "We need to get to my droid. He's got my weapon." she stated.

"I knew you were a secret agent." sighed Lirka. "But how do we get there?"

A service elevator caught Esera's eye. After pushing the button to no effect, and then opening the doors, she realized that the elevators must have been taken offline. Thankfully, she still had her utility belt... Esera swallowed nervously, looking at the elevator cable. "Well, I have one way in mind, but I don't like it."

"You don't mean..?" Esera nodded grimly. "No, no way." Lirka looked aghast. "I don't do this kind of-" Just then, they heard rapid footsteps on the stairs.

"You take your chances with them, or me." said Esera.

"I'm going to regret this..." groaned the Sephi. Luckily, Esera wouldn't have to use her hands on the cable, she had a special tool that could clamp on to the cable to slow their descent. Lirka had to cling to her for dear life, not a simple feat given that she was well over half a head taller. It took about two minutes for them to descend at a speed that wouldn't give her passenger a heart attack. This kind of thing was something Jedi trained for, but junior politicians definitely didn't. At the bottom, Esera's feet gently touched the top of the elevator, while Lirka fell into a heap. "I never want to do that again!" she gasped.

"I never _wanted_ to do that again." muttered Esera. She pulled open the hatch on the top, and dropped into the elevator proper. Lirka followed, much more cautiously, and managed to fall as she landed. As quietly as she could, Esera opened the elevator doors, and peered into the room beyond. All clear.

"I think this is the water pump facility." Lirka whispered, looking around the empty place. There were control panels and read-outs, but everyone who might have been here was gone. "We're definitely in the basement."

"Can you get to the garage from here?" asked Esera.

"Probably?" guessed Lirka. "But what are we going to find? Those guys came out of nowhere, and they were shooting at us! We need to find out what's going on!"

"One thing at a time." Esera said. They made their way through the pumping facility, and into a bare duracrete hallway. They did encounter the mysterious soldiers at one point, but the two hid themselves in empty trash bins before being noticed.

"They're Gossams." Lirka said, once they were gone, peaking out from under the lid of her bin.

"Commerce Guild?" Esera wondered. "Why would they be doing this?"

"The Commerce Guild is always causing trouble in Congress." said Lirka, her eyes narrowing. "They always block peace proposals and never vote for anything constructive. I think they just want a war so they can make money off it."

"Last I heard, Commerce Guild stocks were tanking... And that was months ago." Esera climbed out of her bin, while Lirka did the same. "This might be their way of trying to ditch the Separatists and hope the Senate is lenient with them."

"And you just _know_ they'll get away with it!" spat Lirka, sneering in the direction the soldiers had gone. "They'll probably get a million kickbacks and tax cuts once they've gone back to the Republic's side." The Sephi's feelings about the Commerce Guild surprised Esera. The galactic megacorporations had been instrumental in funding the Separatist cause, and while they were officially neutral, they continued to do the majority of their business with the Separatists. To find such anger directed at them here was unexpected.

"Worry about that later, let's get to the garage." Esera and Lirka continued on through the underground halls, as silently as they could, until they arrived at their destination. The underground parking garage was filled with the airspeeders and skycars of all the dignitaries, plus workers, plus visitors. Lirka's vehicle was easy to spot in the dim light. As they made their way over, they found a powered-down B1 battle-droid with red shoulder markings. "That confirms it, they're moving against the Separatists." said Esera.

"You're making it sound like you're not one of us..." Lirka said.

R8-M5 was happy to see them unharmed. After plugging him into the car's computer for translation, they found out that he'd seen the Commerce Guild troops seal off the exits to the outside; they were trapped in here. They decided to ditch their heavy congressional robes, they'd just slow them down. Esera retrieved her lightsaber from his storage compartment, and then the three departed for the safety of the halls. "What is that thing?" Lirka asked.

"My weapon." Esera told her.

"Why are we bringing the droid?"

"He'll be able to access the building's central computer. Maybe we can find another way out."

Of course, finding a terminal to access would be the problem- "Representative Horthy!" Lirka suddenly blurted out. Esera looked around, trying to find this Horthy. She spotted a head sticking out of a hatch along the bottom of a wall.

"Oh, Miss Lirka, good morning!" said the man, his white hair covered in dust. Somehow, he managed to squeeze out of the hatch, despite his bulky frame. This was the same fellow who had been on the news last night, Esera realized. He too had lost the grey robes, and was just wearing normal day clothes like the two of them. "Who's your friend?" he asked.

"This is Esera, she's a secret agent, we're trying to find a way out!" said Lirka.

"Wayne Horthy, damn glad to meet you." Horthy shook Esera's hand vigorously before she had a chance to say anything. "So, you're a secret agent?"

"No." Esera said. "I've just been in these situations before."

"So have I." said the big man. "I noticed the corporate representatives were gone this morning, well, except the Techno Union one. Seems kinda suspicious. Then I was told that the police headquarters were bombed a few minutes ago... I took a guess and moved out. Heard gunfire later, took to some secret ways I've discovered."

"Yes, they took down Grievous's guards, and might have got him too." Esera said. "Do you know another way out of here? The garage exits are blocked."

"Hold up, Miss Esera." Horthy said, raising a hand. "Did you say they got the General?"

"I think?" Esera shrugged. "I saw him go through the door, and then there was blaster fire."

"Screw breaking out then, we've got to help the General!" declared Horthy. "These guys don't know we're free, do they?"

"Wait- what? _Help_ Grievous?" Esera gaped at him. "First of all, how? You're politicians, not fighters, and there's only three of us and the droid versus who knows how many of them! Second of all, _why_ would we help that murderer?"

They both gave her concerned looks. It was Horthy who spoke first. "First of all, I'm a rancher, I know how to handle myself in a gunfight. Second of all, calling General Grievous a murderer seems awfully subversive. I think you've been watching too much HNN."

"Yeah, Esera," said Lirka, "General Grievous is our leader, we have to help him!"

Esera sighed, and put a hand to her forehead. "I have a lot of doubts about this."

"If you want to run, you can." said Lirka. " _We're_ going to save the General, that's our patriotic duty. You went from lost to on-point the moment things got crazy, so I know you know what you're doing, and we're gonna need your help. But I won't make you."

 _Isn't this a hard choice?_ Esera thought. Lirka was her only real friend in the whole galaxy right now. The Jedi Council had cast her out, the Republic had turned its back to her, Polis Massa had banned her, but this Separatist had taken her in based on nothing more than good will. Was she going to repay that unwarranted kindness by abandoning her, like the Jedi had abandoned Esera herself? Or would she honor her debts, even if it meant rescuing the last person who ever deserved to be rescued by a Jedi?

 _Yes,_ Esera decided. She was not like the Jedi Council, she was not like Aspar or Admiral Holt or or the Governor of Shumavar or any of them. She was not like what the Republic had become. She wasn't like the Polis Massans, who would yield to wrong. There was nowhere else to go, there was no one else to turn to, there was no one else who could protect her from being given the Tano treatment. Esera was now aligned with the Separatists, whether she liked it or not. And if there were good people like Lirka among the Separatists, then perhaps there was hope for them yet.

"Alright, I'll join you." Esera said. R8 looked at her, blinking his photoceptor. "You too, R8, we're in this together." He beeped in affirmation.

"Excellent." said Horthy. "We're gonna need a woman with a head on her shoulders. No offense intended, Miss Lirka. I doubt you're trained for a fight."

"None taken." Lirka said.

"Alright, I'm going to the garage, I've got some guns in my speeder. Miss Esera, you stay around here with the droid and Miss Lirka." Esera nodded, and off Horthy went.

"How did I get into this?" sighed Esera.

Lirka shrugged, and gave her an apologetic look. "Sometimes I wonder the same thing. But between you and Representative Horthy, I'm sure we'll be fine!"

* * *

"Truly, these are interesting times." remarked Corlissi Ludar.

"I'd rather live in anything but." said Tyreca Bremack. "Hatti, get over here!" she called. The Skakoan looked up, and glided across the floor to them. "Why are Commerce Guild troops holding us at gunpoint?"

"I am the wrong person to ask." said Muwat Hatti, the Techno Union representative to the Confederate Congress. "Just because the Commerce Guild has done something, does not mean the Techno Union was informed. We are rivals, not business partners."

"Hmph." Bremack snorted. "In case you haven't noticed, all the other representatives of the corporations are gone."

"Except me." said Hatti. "If there was a plot, I was not informed, and thereby, the Techno Union was not informed. I am as clueless as the rest of you."

"Pointing fingers will get us nowhere." said Ludar. "We need to figure out what's going on."

"That's not exactly possible from here." Bremack crossed her arms, and stared at the Gossam soldiers guarding the exits. "What are they waiting for?"

"They're probably going to execute us soon." said Lan Cathida from behind them. The huge Karkarodon was made even bigger in stature by the water tank he had hooked up to his gills. "It's how our junta on Mintooine took power. I don't intend to go out quietly, though."

"Of course not." Ludar said, picking up his datapad. "Cathida, how good are you at organization?"

"About as good at it as I am at being peaceable. Why?" he asked.

"I'm thinking of candidates for Minister of Industry." answered Ludar. "It is what Grievous asked us to do."

"Ugh, Sluissi." groaned Bremack. "Nothing ever gets you on edge."

"We all must play our part, no matter the distractions." Ludar said.

"That is an admirable dedication." said Hatti. "You would make a fine laborer on one of our forge-worlds."

"I'm not sure if that's compliment or not." said Ludar, giving Hatti a narrow-eyed look.

"Hey," Cathida tapped Ludar's shoulder, "watch this." The Karkarodon stood up to his full height, towering several heads over everyone else. He trudged over to the pair of Gossams at the nearest entrance. "I need to switch the water in my tank." he told them. When the guards looked at each other in confusion, he simply grabbed their heads and smashed them together. Cathida took their guns, and bounded out of the chamber before anyone knew what happened.

"That absolute madman..." Hatti muttered. Moments later, blaster fire, screams, and the distinct roar of the Karkarodon were heard in the hall, fading away.

"You wouldn't see that happening on Coruscant." said Bremack with a tired sigh, putting her chin in her hands. "Maybe he'll get word out of what's happened."

"The question is, was it worth it?" Ludar wondered. "If they weren't on guard before, they certainly will be now." He looked around the chamber, trying to see if anyone else was missing besides the corporate dignitaries and the rogue Lan Cathida. Wayne Horthy had excused himself earlier, his paranoia about tyranny had probably been triggered, and correctly for once. That charming young Sephi from Thustra was gone too – Lirka, wasn't it? And one of the Subterrel representatives was gone, the Human girl who looked like she had been about to be sick the other day. Oras Wendil, the stealthy Umbaran, she was gone too. She'd been here moments ago... perhaps she'd used the confusion of Cathida's breakout to escape as well? Everyone else was accounted for, though. Whatever was going to happen, it rested with those five now, and whomever else they encountered outside the Congress chamber. _Good luck,_ Ludar thought. They were going to need it. His cynical side didn't have much hope for them.

* * *

When Horthy had said he had some guns in his speeder, Esera had thought he'd bring back a blaster pistol or two. Instead, he'd come back with a veritable armory. "Good grief..." Esera sighed, when he placed the bundle of armaments on the floor. "What were you planning for, a one-man insurgency?"

"The Confederacy's constitution guarantees the right of citizens to bear arms freely. I'm merely exercising that right." he said. There were three pistols, two larger blasters, a slugthrower rifle, and a vibroknife in the bundle he'd brought back. Horthy strapped two of the pistols to his own belt, as well as the vibroknife, and slung the rifle over his shoulder on a strap, before taking one of the large blasters. He handed the other large blaster to Esera. "You look like you know your way around weapons." he said.

"I do..." Esera took the gun, and looked it over. The thing looked like it'd been built out of spare parts.

Lirka just got one pistol. "More for self defense than anything." said Horthy.

"Yeah... I've never even held a gun until today." Lirka agreed.

"Stay behind us, don't get heroic, point the shooty end at the enemy." Horthy told her. "Has your droid figured out the situation in the building yet?" he asked.

"More or less." Esera said. They'd found a terminal for R8 to plug into, and he'd quickly discovered what had occurred. "It seems that the Commerce Guild took over the security system sometime last night to prevent their infiltration from being noticed, and then started looping blank video feeds to all the cameras in the morning, rendering them invisible to anyone watching. They also shut down communications in and out of the building, and have locked down all the exits. Now that they're in control, the security system is working as intended. That's why we unhooked the camera over there." Esera pointed to the corner. "We should assume they know we're here, and that they're on their way now. I suggest we get moving. I advise we take the service halls, there's far fewer cameras there."

"Agreed." Horthy nodded. "How'd you get down here in the first place?"

"We went down the elevator shaft... with no elevator." Lirka shuddered.

"She really is a secret agent." muttered Horthy. "We'll take my way up. There's a maintenance passage that leads from here to the fourth floor. Do some stretches, ladies, we got a lotta ladders to climb."

* * *

Author's note: Finally, some action! Esera finds herself in what might be the most awkward position of all time. I was gonna make an analogy to the recent American election, but those wounds might be too fresh for some.

And now for a brief personal rant: Sorry about being technically a day late (it's only 50 minutes past midnight at the time of writing this). My coworkers, unlike me, decided not to get flu shots this season. They all now have the flu. There's no one left to call in to replace the sick, so I'm doing a 40+ hour week and covering for multiple people. Like Han Solo said, no reward is worth this!


	11. Chapter 11: Hitting the Fan

**Chapter Eleven**

For once, Grievous was grateful for his machine parts, they might have just won him this battle. And what a strange battle it was. He had to admit, they had a good plan. At some point in the night, the Gossams had broken into the building and taken it over. Then, they'd hid until he was in the Congress chamber, and moved to surround it as he spoke. As soon as he began to leave, they'd thrown pulse grenades at his magnaguards in the hall, and then thrown more in his direction as he walked through the door. At the same time, they'd shut down the battle-droids in the area and moved to secure the local police headquarters and communications array. The goal was to capture him and paralyze the city, and it had succeeded. As far as the Gossams knew, Grievous was incapacitated and would remain so, safely held in the building's security suite.

But what they didn't know, was that Grievous had sent his electronic systems into emergency shutdown in the one second of warning he'd had. The electromagnetic pulses had no doubt disturbed some of his machine part's circuitry, but not badly. He could reboot his systems at any moment. The only problem was that the Gossams were smart, and had wrapped him up in a cable they'd found, just for redundancy's sake. Breaking out wouldn't be hard, but it would take time, and time was what Grievous didn't have while surrounded by a full squad of them. All he could do was simmer in his own anger. He wasn't even as angry as he ought to have been, though; Grievous was impressed with the speed and competency of this operation. Where had these soldiers been hiding for the whole war? Who knew what havoc he could have wreaked had he had but a company of men like these?

He soon got his answer when the hologram of Shu Mai appeared. " _Is he secured?_ " she asked. So, she'd made a move. The woman had always been uppity with Grievous, she was finally delivering on her threats. Grievous wondered who else was on her side.

" _We have taken Grievous prisoner, alive._ " reported the commander of the Gossams. " _As predicted, the local police are putting up a resistance, but it will soon be dealt with. We have taken the communications array as well, no one outside of the system knows what is happening. All droids in the system have received a shut-down order and obeyed it, to our knowledge._ "

" _What about his flagship?_ " Shu Mai asked, crossing her arms and scowling.

"Invisible Hand _has been chased off to Raxus Quintus by our ships, her hyperdrive is damaged, we believe, but our jamming has stopped them from calling aid._ " the commander said.

" _What? It's just one ship, destroy it!_ " huffed Shu Mai.

" _It is proving more difficult than expected._ " was all the commander had to say. Grievous made a note to himself to reward Captain Dofine. As expected, he was keeping his cool under immense pressure and making his foes look bad all the while. " _You are correct, though,_ Invisible Hand _is just one ship, and one that is moderately damaged and being chased further away. The system is safe for your arrival._ "

 _Good_ , thought Grievous, as the hologram turned off. He'd be able to catch the traitors when he made his inevitable escape. And he _would_ escape. Grievous had not come this far to die to Commerce Guild lackeys, no matter how skilled they were. He hadn't even killed San Hill yet! No, he would survive this. All he needed was a distraction.

Another Gossam officer arrived in the security suite. " _Commander, two more representatives have gone missing._ " he reported. " _The Karkarodon and Umbaran caused a disturbance and escaped._ "

" _What of the two humans and the Sephi?_ " asked the commander.

" _We were tracking them, but they've disappeared. The blueprints of this building must be outdated, we're finding passages and doors that we have not expected. They are most likely using these unmarked areas to move about._ " said the officer. " _They are armed, and all squads have been alerted to their presence._ "

These politicians had more fight in them than he expected. Grievous was pleasantly surprised that they were already taking matters into their own hands. What a rare joy it was, to find competent underlings!

" _Very well._ " the commander said. " _Capture if possible, kill if necessary. I leave the details to you._ "

All there was to do now was wait. Grievous sat quietly, something he'd never tried before, and wondered who would be the lucky one to give him the distraction he needed to break out.

* * *

R8 projected a hologram of the Congress building. The huge semi-circlular structure was focused around a central tower, which they were directly beneath. Currently, Esera and her merry band were located on the fourth floor. Horthy's maintenance passage had turned out to be more of a maintenance space crammed between two walls. It was dark, dusty, and cramped, but at least they were safe here. Getting R8 up the ladders had been a pain though...

"So, where'd you get this layout?" asked Lirka, wiping a grimy mix of sweat and dust off her brow with a shirt sleeve. Esera had already given up on staying clean, as had Horthy. "Did you hack the main computer?"

"R8 downloaded it from the public library's database." said Esera; an answer that made Lirka frown. The mundane nature of her explanation seemed to disappoint her friend. _She really does think I'm a secret agent!_ "It seems that the heart of this building, so to speak, is here." Esera pointed to a room buried deep in in the center, only a few floors above them, nestled between the express elevator shafts that led up into the tower. "This is the security suite, according to the blueprints. I imagine that the attackers are running their operation from there."

"Wise guess." agreed Horthy. "You think the General is in there?"

"Is there a more secure location here?" asked Esera.

"Doubt it." Horthy said. "Getting in there won't be easy. It's surrounded by the elevators, except for the one door in. And you know they're going to be guarding it. These guys don't look like amateurs."

"They're not." said Esera. "They're the Castell Commandos, children purchased from Gossam families stuck in debt slavery to the Commerce Guild and trained from that age as soldiers. I've never encountered them before, but I've seen their handiwork on Umbara. They wiped the servers in the capital, fried half the planet's electric grid, ran circles around the clones, and then vanished."

"Wow." whispered Lirka. "You were on Umbara when it fell? How'd you get off? The Republic made it a restricted zone."

"You'll figure it out soon enough..." Esera muttered. Again, she got a strange look out of Horthy. The man seemed a lot less naive than Lirka, he was probably starting to suspect she wasn't a Separatist at all. _Well, I wasn't, until this morning._

"So, Miss Esera, I take it you have a plan?" asked Horthy.

"What makes you think that?" Esera answered. The truth was, she _did_ have a plan, however stupid it was. Maybe he had a better one.

"I've fought my share of bantha rustlers in my time, it's just how things are on Fallowan. Never gone head to head with special forces, though. But here you are, acting like it's just normal."

"Yeah, Esera, you're a natural at this!" Lirka said, nodding and smiling. "I've only known you a day and a half, but this is the first time I've seen you at ease. You're really good at this fighting business."

 _I wish I wasn't,_ Esera thought. Denying the truth wouldn't do anyone any good, though, war had become the norm of her life. It was a saddening notion. "Before I tell you my idea, I want to hear yours."

"I don't have any, I just want to help." Lirka said. Esera didn't know how much help Lirka would be. In fact, she'd probably be dead weight.

"My first thought was cause a distraction, lure them away from the security suite, and then go in guns blazing." Horthy said, frowning. "Can't say it'd work, if what you say about these fellows is true."

"Well... This is going to sound crazy, but I've done this before." The two leaned in closer to listen. "We make a second door into the security suite. Cut our way into an elevator shaft, bridge the gap, and then cut our way into their room. They'll never see it coming."

"Of course they won't see it coming, it's impossible! We'd need an industrial-grade cutting torch." Horthy said.

"We've got something just as good." said Esera.

"Alright, assuming you've got some hidden tool, how do we stop them from swarming our new door?" Horthy asked. "The moment we start cutting, they'll be onto us."

"Hmm... I suppose we'd still need a distraction." Esera put a hand on her chin. "There's only three of us, though."

"I guarantee you at least one other person got out of that chamber. I know my colleagues, some of them are too wild to be contained." Horthy said. "We should find them."

"Where will they be? How do we find them?" asked Esera. "This isn't exactly a small building."

"I'd bet my boots that Lan Cathida got out." said Horthy, putting a hand on his chin. "He's a fighter, through and through. I wonder if..." As Horthy muttered on, Lirka took out her communicator.

"Why don't we just call him?" she asked. "I've got his number."

"Do I want to know why?" asked Horthy.

"Hey-!"

"Whatever, it doesn't matter." Esera sighed. "Just do it."

Lirka did as told, and momentarily, a tiny hologram of a Karkarodon appeared. He appeared to be filling a tank up with water from some unseen source. "If you're looking for more quality seafood restaurants, this isn't a good time, kid." said the one who was surely Lan Cathida. Even through the transmission, he had a voice made of gravel. "I'm a bit busy."

"Actually, Representative Cathida, my friends and I are a bit busy too. Mister Horthy and Miss Komara are here with me, we're on the run from those Commerce Guild rats!" she said. "Could you help us?" Cathida raised his head.

"Well, I got nothing better to do. You got any guns?" he asked.

"A few." Horthy said, leaning into the projector's range.

 _A few!?_ Esera gave the man a glare.

"Give me a place and a time," said the Karkarodon, "and I'll be there."

* * *

Kronaak had been sleeping in his bath when he got a call from OOM-27. "Sir," squeaked the battle-droid, "we're received a strange message from Raxus. You may want to get up here."

"Very well." sighed Kronaak, hauling himself upright. Though his people mostly dwelt on land, they could not help but feel comfortable in water. Sleeping in the water had proven to be an excellent way of relaxing during the war. _What could this message be?_ he wondered, slightly irked he'd had to wake up over this.

On the bridge, 27 stood waiting, wringing his metal hands together. If droids could sweat nervously, Kronaak had the feeling 27 would be right now. His mimicry of humanoid body language was fascinating. "What is it?" Kronaak asked. There was a hologram message playing... of Shu Mai. Incredibly, she was speaking the Galactic standard, and not Gossam.

"...the radical minority government of the Confederacy has proven to be foolish and shortsighted by handing over power to a madman. Grievous is a mindless butcher who would lead us all to our deaths for the sake of his own pride. Therefore, we, the financial backers of this failed endeavor, have overthrown him, and he now is in our custody. The war is lost, and now it will end. Our bid for independence has failed. With the complete awareness that we represent the true and full voice of the popular will, we will enter into negotiations of surrender with Republic to end this destructive conflict. All forces are ordered to halt their advance and await confirmation of a ceasefire with the-"

"Shut it off." Kronaak growled. "And get me in contact with the rest of the fleet." 27 did as told. Within moments, an impromptu conference of fleet commanders in the area of Triton had gathered on the flagship.

"Gentlemen, we all heard the same thing." said the Umbaran, Vice Admiral Hithlu, acting commander of the fleet. He alone seemed calm and collected; Commodore Alzar Khwaramenes, the Givin, was twitching with anger, while Ricimer Eemon seemed to be in a sour mood by the look on his face. Kronaak clenched his claws open and shut. "The question now," Hithlu went on, "is what to do."

"We go to Raxus and kill every traitorous piece of-" Kronaak began to rumble, only to be cut off by Khwaramenes.

"It'd take six and two-ninths days to get there." he said. "We'd never make it in time to stop them."

"My worry is that some of our comrades may take this seriously." Eemon spoke. "Holes will open in our lines, those who fight on will be encircled and destroyed. Someone needs to move fast."

"And move fast we will." Hithlu the Umbaran smiled coolly. "Utupau is only a few hours from here. Grievous intended to use it as his new military headquarters, we can contact the entire Navy from there. Once again, the corporate leeches will have underestimated those they see beneath them. While we cannot help our good General directly, we can certainly enable others to do so. Kronaak, Eemon, you will come with me. Commodore, you have command of the fleet."

"Me, sir?" the Givin sat up, now alarmed.

"Yes, you." said Hithlu. "Who else?"

Khwaramenes stood, and saluted. "I will do as you command, sir."

"Hold the line, Commodore, and there may be a promotion in it for you. The rest of you, to your ships." ordered Hithlu.

Eemon approached Kronaak shortly afterwords, as they went to the hangar. "It's very clever, isn't it?" he asked.

"Hmm?" Kronaak was stirred from his own thoughts. Worry and anger mixed in his heart, he didn't not know if he should fear the future or rage against it.

"Vice-Admiral Hithlu, I mean." said Eemon. "He's setting himself up for success, and we're along for the ride."

"I don't see what you mean."

"Well, perhaps you will soon."

* * *

It had taken a full hour to find a service hall with no camera in it, and another for the Karkarodon to make his way there. How such a big creature could move with stealth, Esera had no idea. "Who are you?" Lan Cathida asked, upon seeing her.

"Someone in the wrong place at the wrong time." said Esera.

"Hmm." grunted Cathida.

"It may be the wrong place, but it certainly is the right time." said another new vice. An Umbaran woman stepped out from behind the Karkarodon.

"Oh, hello, Representative Wendil." Lirka said.

 _Should I even be surprised?_ Esera wondered. Umbarans always turned up out of thin air. _At least I'm no longer the shortest person here..._ It was the small victories in life that counted most, her master had always said.

"I don't know where she came from." Cathida said, glancing a the little Umbaran. "One moment I was alone, and the next she was there. She hasn't stopped following me since."

"Even we know that there is strength in numbers." said Wendil. "Besides, these soldiers don't know this building like we do, we have the initiative."

"That's for sure." agreed Horthy. "I see you've armed yourselves already."

"It came at a cost, they're much more alert now." Cathida snorted, or made some noise that sounded like a snort. Did sharks actually snort? Esera didn't know. "I don't think we'll be able to get the jump on them again."

"We won't need to." said Esera. She filled the newcomers in on the plan: Esera and Lirka would go for the elevator on the same floor as the security suite, while Horthy, Cathida, and now Wendil too would attempt to draw the Gossams away from the area. Lirka would watch Esera's back; Esera would cut through the elevator shaft and bridge the gap. After that... Well, they'd deal with that problem when it arose. _I can't believe I'm about to rescue General Grievous,_ Esera thought. The very idea made her stomach twist. But getting captured by the Commerce Guild's slave-soldiers and sold to the Republic that was fully prepared to execute her for treason was an even worse thought.

"This sounds suicidal." Wendil said, when everything was explained.

"If this girl doesn't work as fast as she claims she can, it will be." Cathida agreed.

"We're as good as dead anyway, if we don't make a move, what do we have to lose?" Horthy asked.

"I believe in her." Lirka said.

 _Someone does,_ Esera sighed to herself. "Does anyone else have a better plan?" she asked them. No one stepped up to the challenge. "Exactly. We're either doing this my way, or we die. What's it going to be?"

"Fine." Wendil relented. "If the Commerce Guild gets their way, I get sent home for high treason. I've spent too long in prison as it is. Better to die now than die in a life sentence."

There was silence among the five now. Esera realized they were all looking at her. Four Separatist politicians, looking to a Jedi knight for leadership, in a plan to rescue General Grievous, who was being held captive by his own supposed allies. _Where did my life go so wrong?_ Esera asked herself, before taking a deep breath.

"Alright, this is it. Last chance to turn back." she said.

"Let's do this." Horthy growled, wringing his hands on the barrel of his slugthrower.

"If we live, this will be one hell of a story." Cathida said.

"Good luck, everyone!" cheered Lirka. Her bright smile in the face of imminent death didn't sit right with Esera. But could she really judge the woman? Lirka had never even held a gun until today, she didn't know what she was getting into.

"May the Force be with us..." muttered Esera.

And so began the most unexpected thing Esera had ever had to do.

* * *

The Holonet had been on fire all afternoon. Grievous's ascension to leadership of the Separatists was relatively unsurprising, at least compared to Dooku's death. Bail Organa and everyone else in the Senate had expected Grievous to be put in command, for lack of any other clear leader. No, what was surprising was how suddenly the feeds from Raxus had gone dark before switching to some kind of emergency broadcast signal. The pundits had spent a good hour speculating on what could have happened before Shu Mai's address was sent to the whole galaxy. For a foolish few moments, Bail had allowed himself to hope this war was going to end. Then came the second galaxy-wide address through the Holonet, not three hours after the first.

"I am Vice Admiral Hithlu, acting commander of the First Fleet of the Confederate Navy." said a grim Umbaran, his white hair swept back and his face so gaunt one could almost see the skull behind the skin. He stood behind a podium emblazonment with the Confederacy's hexagon, and Separatist banners hung behind him. "Hours ago, a coup was launched against the lawful government of our nation. This coup is being carried out by the private security forces of the Commerce Guild, acting only in the interests of the Commerce Guild. It is clear they have lost faith in our cause, and now seek to return to their corrupt masters in the Republic. And what better way for them to do this than to decapitate our movement and deliver it to Coruscant? Nay! Shu Mai and her ilk do not speak for the popular will of the nation! She speaks for herself, and the spineless cowards who no longer have the will to see our struggle through to the promised final victory. Any orders of surrender or ceasefire from Raxus are to be ignored-"

The Umbaran's speech went on along these lines for some time, and with each minute, Bail's heart sunk. Not only would the galaxy continue to be locked in civil war, but now there would be a civil war within a civil war if this Hithlu got his way. _There goes our peace,_ he thought.

"There's a silver lining to all this," Mon Mothma sighed. "If the Separatists start fighting each other, it'll shorten the war by just that much."

"I can only hope Grievous stays in custody. This is the best chance we've ever had to bring him to justice." Padme Amidala said. There was a dark look on her face. Bail couldn't blame her for the animosity she felt towards that horrible cyborg

It didn't take long for the media to begin a new round of speculation on what this meant for the course of history. HNN and other pro-Republic outlets concluded that it would drastically shorten the war in the Republic's favor. Some more neutral organizations thought it might actually strengthen the Separatist movement in the long run, provided their leadership survived the coming days. Bail had the feeling that they might be right. Nothing brought people together better than being the victims of a treasonous elite.

* * *

Author's note: The alternate title was "In which a band of politicians and a seriously misplaced Jedi decide they're all bad enough dudes to rescue the president." Or head of state, in this case. Is this the power of patriotism?

Anyways, sorry about the long delay in posting. Work was pretty damn awful these last few weeks, I wasn't able to get anything done. I hope to have the next chapter up soon enough, but who knows. My schedule for posting has gone to the dogs, so to speak.


	12. Chapter 12: An Unlikely Team

Author's note: Oh look, it's a Timewatch disappears for 10 months episode. I bet you guys are tired of reruns, aren't you? Last time I complained about my god-awful job, and it got so bad I transferred departments to something slightly less awful. Then I got an ancient car that I needed to learn to drive and then get it to stop doing things like leaking out four quarts of oil in a few days. Because I hate myself. At the same time, I started learning a language because I thought I was going to another country for a bit but it never panned out so I dropped that and started learning an entirely different language that's much harder and not even written in the Latin alphabet, which I'm also balancing with aforementioned job. Because I hate myself. But I never gave up on writing this, I've been slowly chipping away at the end of this arc, and now it's ready to go. So, on to another temporary revival which won't last long! Why? Because- You know what, I'm not even going to say it.

 **Chapter Twelve**

Time had lost all meaning to Obi-wan Kenobi. How long had he been in this cell, with only that blinking light for company? A week? A month? A year? Every moment passed as a lifetime. Sometimes food and water showed up, sometimes it didn't. Obi-wan could only fall back onto meditation. The Force was no longer as soothing as it had once been, though. There was a disturbance. It was as if some tremor was running beneath the waves of a vast ocean; the waters roiled and churned. Perhaps the death of Anakin had something to do with that. The prophecy of the Chosen One was wrong, it seemed.

Obi-wan had come to terms with the demise of his best friend and student. It was not the nature of a Jedi to rage against fate or destiny. Anakin's passing was the will of the Force. To what end it would play, none could see, but Obi-wan had faith that there was a reason behind it. There had to be. Anything else would be a waste of life and potential. Obi-wan did not believe the Force wasted any life in the universe, no matter how stupid or random it seemed. What weighed most on his mind was how two other people who had been close to Anakin were taking his death. It had been many months since he last saw either Ahsoka or Padme-

Then, something happened. The cell shook. Or rather, _Invisible Hand_ shook. He'd almost forgotten he was on a ship. Were they being attacked? Was this some kind of rescue attempt? The shaking went on, and he could feel the rumble of the engines growing through the floor. The first clear thought in an eternity entered his mind: _We're accelerating._

It took all of Obi-wan's focus to bring himself into the here and now, to become aware of his surroundings and conditions again. The shaking and rumbling grew greater. At some point in the past, Grievous's magnaguards had loosened his restraints so that he could lie down, stand up, and even walk a little. Obi-wan was grateful for that small mercy, as it allowed him to start stretching what was left of his muscles. He could feel it in the Force: opportunity was near. He didn't know what it was, or when it would come, but there was a change in the winds of fate.

Perhaps it was a second, perhaps it was an hour, or maybe a day, but that change came. The cell door wooshed open, and the bulky silhouette of a magnaguard was framed against the blinding light beyond, its two red eyes shining at Obi-wan. "Stand up," the droid ordered.

Obi-wan did as told, slowly and unsteadily. "What-" he coughed, he hadn't said anything in a long time, "What's going on?"

"Your presence has been requested on the bridge," said the magnaguard. It grabbed him by the arm, and pulled him out of the cell. "Put on the vacuum suit."

"What?" Obi-wan raised a hand against the light, and made out the blurry image of a spacesuit.

"Your species cannot sustain itself in a vacuum. Put on the vacuum suit," ordered the droid.

Well, there was no fighting that. Obi-wan did as told, and the droids took him out of the brig, and into a hallway that looked completely normal, but for the lack of sound. Again and again, the ship shook and shuttered. _There must be a battle, that's why this area is depressurized._ "What's going on?" he asked the magnaguards, over the suit's comms.

There was no answer.

When they encountered a bulkhead that had been blasted away to reveal the void beyond, Obi-wan knew for sure there was a battle going on. They had to magnetize their feet and walk on the wall to get around the gaping wound; luckily artificial gravity was not functioning here. And finally, after that, they arrived at the bridge. As soon as they were in a pressurized zone again, Obi-wan removed his helmet, and in they went.

To Obi-wan's surprise, there was no Grievous present. Instead, a nemoidian craned his head around the command chair. "Ah, General Kenobi," he spoke, "just in time."

"I can't imagine why I've been brought here," Obi-wan said. He saw red laser streaks fly by, outside the windows. _Red, not blue,_ he realized. Those weren't Republic guns firing at them.

"Allow me to introduce myself: I am Captain Lushros Dofine, commanding officer of the _Invisible Hand,_ " said the nemoidian.

"Well met," Obi-wan said. This Separatist seemed to have some manners, at least.

"I apologize for my terseness, but we are tight on time. It is said the Jedi have mind-tricking powers, yes?" asked the captain.

"We may," said Obi-wan, putting a hand on his now-long beard.

"My enemy has called on me to surrender this ship, or else we will be destroyed. As proud as I am of this ship, destruction will surely be our fate, unless we can call for help. And that would mean getting the enemy to turn his jammers off."

"I see... Your intention is to have my trick your enemy into doing that, with my Jedi powers?" asked Obi-wan.

Captain Dofine clasped his hands together, and smiled. "Precisely."

"And why would I agree to help you, my captor?"

"I have no intention of surrendering, General Kenobi," said Dofine. He kept his smile, but there was a steely hardness in his eyes. Nothing else needed to be said.

"Very well," sighed Obi-wan. "I have no intention of dying on Grievous's ship either. Who is your enemy?"

"Some Commerce Guild sycophant with too much firepower and too little tactical grace," Dofine said.

"And why are you fighting your ally?"

"There has been some disagreement over the succession of Count Dooku." Dofine looked off to the side, narrowing his eyes and frowning. "They got the jump on us, I admit, but they've lost the element of surprise. Even if we die here, it won't be long until help arrives. But... I'd rather not die here."

"Open up a line, then," said Obi-wan. Of course, doing a mind trick on someone from thousands of kilometers away was different from doing it a meter away. Only the most powerful of Force-users could focus their abilities like that. It took a level of concentration few could attain. Obi-wan had never tried it, but there was a first time for everything, he supposed.

A viewscreen lowered from the ceiling, and on it appeared a gossam. Obi-wan made sure he was outside the screen's field of vision. "Have you come to your senses, yet, Dofine?" asked the gossam.

"You were right, Veng," said Dofine. "My ship will not long survive this."

"Then you surrender?" Veng asked, his beady eyes narrowing in what could only be suspicion. "This does not seem like a surrender."

"I have one condition."

"Of course..." sighed the gossam.

While the two had spoken, Obi-wan had been narrowing his focus across the vast gulf of space. He had tuned out everything, waiting for the Force to guide him to the right moment. And guide him it did.

"Turn off your jammers," said Dofine.

"Hah! As if!" laughed Veng.

 _Now._ Obi-wan stepped up beside Dofine's chair. "You will turn off the jammers," he commanded, waving his hand.

"No, I won't- Who are you, anyway?"

"You _will_ turn off the jammers."

"I-"

He could feel the universe straining around him. Obi-wan stared down the gossam, leveling every ounce of his power against him. "You _will_ turn off the jammers," he spoke again.

"I will turn off the jammers..." muttered Veng, waving to an unseen person on his bridge.

"They've stopped jamming us," a droid on _Invisible Hand_ announced.

"Yes!" Dofine exclaimed, jumping up from his chair and rushing forward. "Get in contact with Admiral Tuuk immediately!" Obi-wan took a moment to gather his composure again, and slipped his hand onto the chair's console.

He was too distracted to see Obi-wan searching for a particular number in the starship's computer.

* * *

Using the service passages, Horthy, Cathida, and Wendil had gone around to the other side of the building. Esera and Lirka stayed put until they heard the blaster fire begin. "Let's go," Esera said.

"Right behind you!" said Lirka, patting her shoulder.

As expected, the hall was deserted. They found the blank wall, that according to the blueprints, at least, masked the elevator shafts. Esera took out her lightsaber, but before she could turn it on, her companion's mood made an immediate change.

"That looks like a lightsword..." muttered Lirka, her eyes narrowing.

"You've seen one before?" asked Esera, surprised.

"Every Sephi has. A Jedi murdered our king when he refused to surrender us to the Republic." That suddenly guarded and wary look said everything else Esera needed to know about her feelings towards Jedi.

 _Well then..._ This just got that much more complicated. Esera swallowed nervously, and took a deep breath. "Lirka... I tried to do one decent thing in this awful war, and all I got for it was exile and betrayal. I never wanted to be here, but here I am. So I guess I'm a Separatist now. I mean, I've got nowhere else to go. No one else to turn to. You're the only ones in the whole galaxy who don't want me dead. Hell, you're the only ones who have actually helped me."

Esera pushed the ignition button, and the green blade of light leapt out of the hilt. "So why not rescue General Grievous? What more could possibly go wrong with my life?" She stabbed into the wall, and began cutting.

The young sephi was silent. She was staring at Esera, confused and shocked, but more confused. No doubt, like many Separatists, she'd gotten the idea in her head that the Jedi were bloodthirsty killers, masters of a slave-soldier army that sought to crush their dreams of self-determination and subjugate them back into a broken and dying system. What must it have been like for her, to have one of these legendary sorcerer-warriors right next to her? To realize that even a Jedi could be as pathetic, lost, and alone as Esera was? Esera finished the first cut, and pulled out the panel of metal with a tug through the Force. She flipped it over, and extended it out through the elevator shaft until it touched the other wall.

"You're the counterweight, now," Esera told Lirka. "Hold this end down, sit on it if you have to."

Lirka did as ordered, and Esera walked out on the narrow panel. It creaked and bent under her weight, but it held. She jammed her blade into the next wall, and cut as fast as she could. The blaster fire was growing nearer, her fellow resistance fighters were being driven back. _Come on..._ she thought. _Almost there..._ Aha! Esera kicked down the square hole in the wall, and jumped through...

...only to come face to face with the cyborg himself. A pile of cables surrounded him, but he stood tall and free, fists clenched. He'd broken himself out already.

Esera stared at Grievous, lightsaber still blazing in her hand. _I could finish him, right now,_ she realized. _I could do it, right here._ How many lives would she save? How many lives would she condemn? Would the Separatists surrender with his death? Or would they melt away and turn into an unending insurgency which would bleed the galaxy dry?

Grievous was staring back at her, hunched forward, ready to spring. He knew what she was thinking. " _Go. You're not worth killing,_ "he'd told her the other day. The power to do so was in his grasp, he could have ended her life at that moment, but he didn't. And despite all the awful things Esera had heard about this cyborg, she couldn't bring herself to pay back his mercy with such treachery. No, she was on his side now, whether she liked it or not. Oh, how horrid a fate! She lowered her blade, and relaxed her stance.

"I suppose we're even, then," Esera said.

"Hmph," Grievous snorted, snatching up his cape. "You should have done it."

"I'm not a murderer," Esera told him.

"It would not be murder to kill someone as dangerous as me any more than it would be murder to kill a Jedi," Grievous said. "You are a fool, girl."

"If it means never becoming what you are, I can live with that." Esera turned away, to the door of the suite. The gunfire outside had stopped.

Grievous suddenly growled. "My lightsabers aren't here."

"What a shame," said Esera. The Gossams had played it smart by hiding his weapons. Then, the cyborg's head whipped up and around towards the still-shut door. A second later, he was bolting for the hole Esera had cut through the wall. Esera was following him as soon as she saw the door opening. Grievous didn't go for the other side of the elevator shaft, though; he wrapped his claws around the oily cable and just slid off into the darkness below. Lirka was nowhere to be found on the other side, Esera imagined she'd made herself scarce quite quickly. _Here we go again,_ she sighed.

Grievous was fast, he'd already pried the doors open and bolted into the hall by the time Esera reached the bottom of the shaft. She wasn't quite sure where she was, but given the tall windows letting in streams of pale light that lined the far side of the hall, it had to be something akin to a main entrance. A few days ago, she'd probably come through here, but she'd been so distracted that she didn't remember anything of it. Where was that cyborg though?

 _There he is!_ Grievous had stopped to look at one of those maps public buildings often had, usually featuring arrows pointing to a spot proclaiming _"You are here!"_ He didn't seem to care more Gossam soldiers were rushing towards him. In fact, Esera didn't even think he was aware-

Then, that awesome and terrible creature suddenly rocketed towards the Gossams, swinging himself around as he flew through the air and landing amongst them with as much carnage as a giant buzzsaw. Perhaps he had been aware after all, Esera decided. Then, he noticed her too.

"Are you still here?" Grievous asked her.

"I really don't have a choice," Esera said, in a voice more desperate than she would have liked.

That got a laugh out of him, more hearty than she'd heard from him on their last meeting. "Then you would not mind if I borrowed your lightsaber?"

"What?!"

"Give it to me, girl. I prefer not to take trophies from enemies I don't kill in combat. You can have it back when I am done," said Grievous, as if it was an entirely reasonable request.

"And you're just going to leave me here with nothing?" Esera shook her head. "No. Break a window or something, and we can go our own ways."

Grievous growled again. "Here's the deal: give me the lightsaber, and I grant you asylum in the Confederacy. Do not give it to me, and I treat you as an enemy of the state."

The offer must have surprised them both, because it seemed as if Grievous hadn't even expected himself to say that. Esera was completely blown away, until she heard more Gossams approaching. It was tempting to think that this was the time to choose her fate, but Esera knew she'd already chosen it three hours ago. _I'm one of them now._ Good heavens, was that a strange thing to think.

"Okay, fine!" Esera tossed her lightsaber to Grievous. He caught it, and nodded.

"Come with me if you want to live," Grievous said. Esera followed, trying not to think about the fact she'd just teamed up with one of her order's worst foes. The cyborg seemed to have no idea where he was going, he stopped at every corner and backtracked several times. After a few minutes of this, Esera had to speak up.

"The best way out is through a window, you know," she said. "They've sealed off the doors."

"They have a tank out there," Grievous told her.

"I didn't see one-"

"You're not listening to their communications," he said. "You should know, we're now to be killed on sight, not captured."

"Great," Esera sighed. "Everyone in the galaxy wants to kill me right now, except you of all people."

"Careful, girl, if you whine too much, I'll change my mind about that. Then you'll really be in trouble!" Grievous chuckled again.

Esera did not appreciate the remark. _I don't even think that was a joke..._ After a few more minutes of being chased around by Gossams, it became clear that the were being herded into a certain section of the building. It was the same tactic that Esera and her master had once used against Separatist rebels that had been attempting to infiltrate a planetary governor's palace. Sometimes a net worked better than a spear, her master had said.

Grievous made an abrupt turn into a bathroom. To her confusion, all he did was smash a mirror and pick up the biggest shard. _What's he going to do with that?_ The answer was blindingly obvious once he fused it to a cut piece of piping with her lightsaber. _He's going to use it to look around corners, of course..._

Or over window ledges, as it turned out. The two of them approached the big windows while crouched down, and Grievous used his impromptu periscope to see what was happening outside. "If they're half as smart as they've shown themselves to be, they'll have all their thermal sights pointed at this gallery," he said. "The moment either of us is spotted through these, they'll send a missile our way. I might survive, but you won't."

"So what do... _we_ do?" Esera asked. Using _we_ to include Grievous made her feel dirty, she could not deny it.

"It's a good thing I need your Jedi magic, girl, or else I would have used you as bait by now," Grievous grumbled. He handed her the periscope. "Look at the tank."

"I see it," Esera said. It was an AAT, but painted black, with Grievous's implied missile launcher atop the turret.

"I am going to show myself, they are going to fire that missile. It will be a high explosive fragmentation warhead. You are going to use your Force powers to push the missile into the infantry over to the right. Do not push it back into the tank, it will do nothing to it. Is that clear?"

"I-"

"These are professional soldiers, girl, do not get sentimental. They are killers, they are ready to kill us, and they are fully ready to _be killed_ by us."

"Okay," Esera said, trying not to sigh again. No matter what she did, the war sucked her back in.

"And don't get any funny ideas, either. If you let them kill me, they're still going to kill you."

"I get it!"

"Then the time is now." Grievous moved down the gallery by two windows, ignited her lightsaber, and popped up; he began cutting through the transparisteel. Esera followed him a second later, throwing out a wave through the Force. Her Jedi intuition proved correct again: the missile fired and immediately veered into the infantry near the tank.

By the time the tank's cannon had taken aim, Grievous was through the window and on the snowy-covered ground outside. Esera rushed after. By the time she was standing up, everything was over. Grievous had cut down the survivors, and now was forcing the tank's hatch open. By the time Esera had stumbled through the snow to the tank, Grievous had killed everyone inside and tossed their bodies out. "Get in," he ordered, "we're going to the array." Grievous took the driver's seat, Esera closed the hatch. "Do you know how to aim a cannon?" he asked.

"Not really-"

"Then don't go in the turret, you'll probably die." That was all Grievous had to say for the moment. His 'ears' kept tilting back and forth, and moving up and down. They must have been antennae; it would explain how he could hear what their enemy was saying. He threw the throttle forward, and Esera flew backward into the hatch.

"I better sit down..." she muttered. Her ally of convenience didn't offer his opinion, or even a glance; what counted as his face was pressed up against the viewscreen. Despite being part-machine, Grievous was anything but graceful in his driving. They bumped and bounced their way out of the square and into the city proper. Esera had to look through one of the gun cameras to figure out what was going on. They were going down a wide street, lined with tall buildings crammed so close together they probably were breaking fire code. Not one was the same as another. In the back of her mind, Esera recalled that Raxulon had a district named _the old city_. Were they there?

"We've got company," Grievous suddenly spoke up. He stopped the tank, stood up, and opened the hatch. "Move quickly," he ordered, striding into the snow.

Esera scampered after him, only to be tossed through the air. She let out a yelp of surprise before she landed face-down into a drift, as the tank exploded.

"Their gunship found us," said Grievous, ducking into a narrow alley. "But they will be reluctant to fire on areas of high population density. At least until Shu Mai orders them to."

"So we're using innocent people as shields?" Esera asked, frowning.

"Yes."

"How pathetic."

"Would it sooth your Jedi sensibilities if I walked out into the open for the Commerce Guild?"

"It actually might!" said Esera, crossing her arms and stopping where she stood. "You'd at least have one redeeming act in your life before you died."

Grievous stopped too, and turned back to face her, eyes narrowed. "And what do you know of my life?"

"Not a lot, but aside from hating us Jedi and causing mayhem wherever you go, there isn't much to you," Esera told him. Grievous blinked once, then twice, before looking away.

"I've thought the same as late," he said. Then Grievous turned forward again, and continued walking.

 _What?_ Esera asked herself. _What did he mean by that?_ She sighed yet again, and trudged after him. The gunship's engines droned in the distance, the only sound besides their footsteps in the silent city.

* * *

"When you called me away from Kashyyyk, I didn't think we'd be doing something like this," Mar Tuuk said.

"Some things are too dangerous to know about beforehand," Nute Gunray told him. "If you'd known what I was going to ask you to do, you wouldn't have agreed to do it."

"You are certainly right," Tuuk muttered.

The two were aboard his battleship, currently in orbit of Raxus with the rest of the corporate armada. Tuuk's ship was one of few that bore the blue war-paint and white insignia of the Separatists, most of the others were in their company regalia. The force Shu Mai had assembled was small compared to the planetary defense fleet, but with the droids shut down, that didn't matter. The garrison fleet was orbiting helplessly, unable to do more than what little their few organic officers could manage manually. Those who had tried to fight were crushed.

Gunray was shocked that Shu Mai's plan had gone off so flawlessly. Grievous had never seen her plot coming. Her commandos didn't even need the help of the Koorivar and Nemoidians sent down to assist them. If all went to Shu Mai's design, then the Republic would take custody of Grievous and the Confederacy would surrender. They'd pardon the Council for taking down Grievous, right? Even if they'd committed high treason, at least they'd gone back into the fold willingly, right? At the very worst, they'd have to pay reparations and deal with anti-trust legislation, right?

His old friend was having the same thoughts. "What happens if the Republic actually accepts the deal Shu Mai has offered them?"

"I don't know," said Gunray. "I don't think the military would accept it."

"Ours, or theirs?"

"Both," Gunray sighed.

The Republic wanted an unconditional surrender, Palpatine had said that many times. The so-called Confederacy _must_ be dismantled in its entirety, every single system _must_ return to the union as they were before. They had to make it clear, now and forever, that the Confederate cause had been doomed to failure from the very start. The Separatist armies and fleets would be loathe to surrender without condition. In three years of war, Gunray had come to realize that were was real patriotism in the ranks of the commoners. He and his fellow tycoons had joined this affair to make a profit and secure their interests in a new galactic order; the Separatist military fought against a tyrannical galactic empire for their freedom. The Council might try to surrender, but they wouldn't.

"If you didn't think this plan would work, why join it? Why risk Grievous's wrath?" Tuuk asked, giving him a cold glare from his chair. "That's not very characteristic of you, is it?"

"Of course it wouldn't be, use your brain."

"So you _do_ think this plan is going to work, for reasons unknown to me. That, or you're playing another game entirely..." The admiral clasped his hands under his chin, and leaned forward.

"Never make an entrance without an exit strategy," Gunray quoted from the galaxy-famous Trade Federation ship's manual.

"Ah, so you're playing for either side, waiting for a sign of which way the wind is going to blow." Tuuk nodded to himself. "A wise move, Viceroy."

"It's a mistake I've made many times, I won't make it again." Gunray paced back and forth across the bridge, glancing at the snowy northern hemisphere of Raxus. "What do you know of the Sith, Admiral?"

"Sith? The Empire that fought the Republic a thousand years ago?" Tuuk shrugged. "They've been gone a long time."

"If only that were so..." whispered Gunray, too softly for Tuuk to hear it. "What if I told you that none of this was ever supposed to happen," he said.

"I would ask if anything is ever truly supposed to happen. It is a universe of free will, we make of it what we will. Nothing is set in stone, except for that which has happened." As typical, Tuuk's love of learning caused him to miss the point entirely. Talking to him was useless.

 _None of this was supposed to happen,_ Gunray thought again. Everything that had happened in the past sixteen years had done so according to Sidious's design. From the faulty security droids that had killed every non-Nemoidian on the Trade Federation Directorate to the attack on Coruscant, Sidious had been behind it all. If it weren't for that accursed man, Nute Gunray would be a nobody to the galaxy at large. Just another face on the Directorate. Sidious had made him an offer he couldn't refuse. His only choice had been to do as he was told by the Sith lord, or he'd frame Gunray for the murder of the other directors.

He'd never been a player in the game. He was a pawn from the very start. None of this was supposed to happen; he hadn't wanted power and wealth, at least not for this price. Gunray would have given every credit he had just to go back and shut down those droids before they opened fire. To live the quiet life of business and management he'd been denied... No war, no politics, no plots.

 _And here I am now, at the heart of all three._ Every curse in every language he knew ran through his mind, directed at Sidious. But Sidious was gone now, crushed beneath rubble on Coruscant or gunned down by Grievous's droids as just another anonymous casualty among thousands. Or abandoned his whole scheme after brain damage changed his personality. Whatever the means, Sidious was gone. Now, Gunray was a player. Now, he had a way out. And by every god in the universe, he was going to take it.

* * *

To avoid the gunship, Grievous had the brilliant idea of taking the 'detour' through Raxulon's subterranean labyrinth known as the old sewer. Luckily, sewage no longer flowed through this ancient system, but it was still dark, damp and cold. "Do you know where we're going?" asked Esera.

"Yes," Grievous said. "I am going uphill."

How he could tell he was going uphill was a mystery. If Esera had to guess, he probably had a gyroscope in his body somewhere that told him the precise angle he was moving at relative to gravitational pull. A grade imperceptible to humans would be apparent to him.

But what was not imperceptible to Esera was his breathing. It started as a small sound, before growing louder and louder, harsher and harsher. The coughing started small, too, one or two every few minutes, but each one was more severe than the last. _Is he sick?_ Esera wondered. The cyborg refused to acknowledge the problem, even when he had to stop and double over from the latest coughing fit.

"Don't tell me you've got consumption," sighed Esera, leaning against the wall.

"Very funny," remarked Grievous. He stood up, and immediately was racked by another series of wheezes and coughs. "If I ever meet Windu in battle again, I will make his death slow and painful," he growled.

"We should probably stop for a bit," Esera said.

"No-!"

"Look, I need you alive so I can stay alive, alright?" sighed Esera. "Whatever Master Windu did to you, it got your pretty bad."

The cyborg could only growl again, before sitting down on a ledge. Esera sat too, and was about to slip into mediation, when her unlikely companion had something to say.

"What did they tell you about me?" Grievous suddenly asked. That question caught Esera off-guard.

"What do you mean? Like, at the Temple..?"

"Wherever. What do the Jedi know about me?"

"Not much. You really hate us, you're a cyborg with a mean streak ten kilometers wide, you were Dooku's pawn, that's about it." Esera hoped he wouldn't get mad at that last statement.

But, Grievous nodded. His voice had changed, it was softer and quieter than she'd ever heard it before. "That's as much as I know about myself."

"I don't believe you," said Esera.

"And yet, I have no clear memories before I entered this body..." Grievous stretched out one of his hands before his face, peering at the mechanical hand like it was something alien to him. "Everything before is a jumble of images and sounds. Some it makes sense. Much of it doesn't. There is no context, no order. I know nothing of who I was, before Grievous. It is as if I awoke in the life of another, a life not my own."

Moments like these, when Esera wondered if she really knew anything at all, were becoming far too common for her liking. Everything she'd been told about Grievous had prepared her for a madman who could kill and maim with impunity, who had no logic or rationality to his actions, only endless rage. But this Grievous? This really was an entirely different person. He was so completely at odds with what other Jedi had told her that Esera didn't know how to respond. Who was she talking to? What had he done with the raving lunatic Grievous? Where did this introspective creature come from? Why did he know nothing about himself?

"Tell me, girl," Grievous spoke again, "and in your own words, why are the Republic and Confederacy at war?"

"...You mean you don't know?" asked Esera. _If he doesn't even know why we're at war..._

"I said in your own words." Grievous narrowed his eyes, but the shame he felt was strong enough to be felt through the Force.

 _He really doesn't know!_ How incomprehensible was it that the leader of an entire side of a galactic civil war didn't know what he was fighting for!

"Where to even begin..." Esera put her chin in her hands, and looked at the floor. "I guess it was a long time coming, the Separatist Crisis. Discontent has been building for decades. Centuries, even, my master told me. You guys didn't come out of nowhere. Twenty thousand star systems don't secede without real reason. All it took was the right man at the right time to give them a voice."

"Dooku," said Grievous. "He used to make me listen to his political speeches, before the war began."

"You weren't actually listening, because those speeches have the answer to your question." The cyborg narrowed his eyes, but he didn't protest. _I must be right._ "Dooku rallied everyone who was upset with Coruscant but had no power to act. I was just a kid when this was all going down, but I remember it pretty well. He railed on the corruption, the stagnancy, the greed, the incompetence... But when you get down to it..." Esera paused. The only time she'd ever voiced this thought out loud, she'd ended up getting a visit from Republic Intelligence. "It's like Senator Amidala said: this war is represents a failure to listen. We- _they,_ the Republic started this at Geonosis. They fired the first shots, they tried to keep the union intact by force rather than address the very legitimate complaints the Separatists had. And that proved every single thing Dooku said right. You had the morale high ground."

"Had..." Grievous tilted his head. "And then..?"

Esera gave him a disbelieving look. " _You_ happened! It's like Dooku decided being a Sith – if he even was one – wasn't evil enough, he needed something even worse!"

"I can only imagine what wonderful tales your propagandists have dreamt up about me," said Grievous, giving her such a look that she could feel his condescending, smug smile, even if he didn't have a mouth. It really was like she was having a conversation with two different Grievouses, and they kept switching places with each other.

"There was no brain-rot plague?"

"There was, and it was entirely justified, you give my droids viruses all the time. I merely repaid the favor. There was some _collateral damage_."

"What about your enslaving operations?"

"Total lies, I despise slavers."

"And what you did to Humbarine?"

"Don't tell me you fell for that hoax!" Grievous sighed.

"Humbarine wasn't a hoax, those refugees didn't come from nowhere!"

"If I had _wanted_ to destroy Humbarine, there wouldn't have been anyone left to escape," said Grievous. The fact he could speak so nonchalantly about killing billions made Esera clench her teeth. "One of my battleships suffered a malfunction in its hyperdrive, it hit the planet at light-speed. A few days later you paid us back the favor at Pammant. An eye for an eye, Dooku said. He thought it best not to escalate."

"So," Esera said, "are you telling me you're not as bad as I think you are?"

"I made no such implication," Grievous told her, waving a finger at her. "I have slain many Jedi in my search for vengeance, I have killed many innocents in my prosecution of this war, I have done many things you should hate me for."

"Jedi do not hate," said Esera, frowning nonetheless.

"If you were a Jedi, would you be here?"

How did she respond to that? It was true, the Order had expelled her when she was declared a traitor. The only reason she was here was because she had nowhere else to go. "Why do you want revenge on the Jedi?" Esera asked. To her knowledge, no one had ever bothered asking Grievous that. It was very silly, she thought, that it took _her_ of all people to ask him why.

Yet again, Grievous had a confounding answer: "You tried to kill me."

"Of course we tried to kill you, you're trying to kill us!"

"No." He shook his head, getting that distant look again. "You tried to kill me before I became who I am today."

 _Oh._

"I have remembered that much of the past. The Jedi bombed my shuttle. But I do not know why." Grievous clasped his hands together, and leaned forward. "They are so sickeningly noble and sentimental... Anonymous bombs are not their style. What did I do to deserve such a dishonorable assassination attempt? It must have been something very bloody."

Esera realized the significance of this moment. While it was annoying, and mildly concerning, how quickly Grievous switched from a smug butcher to a confused amnesiac, she was closer than anyone else alive in the galaxy to figuring out his mysterious past. "Is this bombing why you're in that body?"

"Yes, I believe so."

"Is it why your memory is so... scrambled?"

"No. That was Dooku."

Now _that_ was interesting! "What did Dooku do?" asked Esera. She was beginning to get excited, the Republic would have killed for this intelligence. _Too bad they turned on me!_

"Against my wishes, he and San Hill modified my mind. Memory blockers, emotional inhibitors, aggression enhancers," said Grievous. "I did not find out until after his death at Coruscant, and I had them removed."

And just like that, every piece of the puzzle came together. "No wonder I feel like there's two of you in there," Esera said, pointing at his head. "There _are_ two of you. This explains... everything, really. Dooku's Grievous, and Grievous's Grievous, I suppose. The former is a madman bent on spilling as much blood as possible, because that's what they turned him into. He was here just a minute ago. The latter is... whoever I'm talking to right now. It really must be like waking up in someone else's life."

Grievous was still for a minute, thinking on what she said. His expression grew increasingly troubled and uncertain, a look Esera would have never thought possible on him even a few hours ago. "You are right," he spoke at last, "I cannot deny that. Who they turned me into is not who I was."

"I think I understand now why you didn't kill me yesterday," Esera said. "Maybe whoever you were wouldn't have done that. Dooku's Grievous would have."

"I didn't kill you because you reminded me of someone. Someone in my life, long ago," said Grievous. He very pointedly looked away from her. "I don't know who. I am disgusted to have acted on sentiment. Perhaps I believe I am supposed to be disgusted, perhaps this is who I truly am. I don't know. I don't know what is me and what is Dooku's meddling. I don't even know why I'm telling you this."

 _And there it is,_ Esera thought. The enigma of Grievous laid bare, and at the same time, growing deeper than ever before. If Dooku really had altered Grievous's mind so much that it overwrote his true self, then was Grievous truly responsible for the things he'd done? If he'd even done those deeds as the Republic had claimed he did, some of which he denied? Was the idea of the person of Grievous being an insane, omnicidal warlord woefully wrong? Could his true self be recovered from the mess Dooku and his minions had made? Was his true self even someone worth recovering? There were so many questions going through Esera's mind that she didn't hear Grievous stand up, and didn't hear him speak until he prodded her with one of his talons.

"What?" she asked.

"Break time is over, we're moving out," he said.

 _Damn!_ Esera thought. There was still so much to learn!

* * *

Author's note al-thany: See you guts whenever chapter 13 is done. It mean, it's like 45% done right now, so... sometime before 2018, kek. RIP hopes and dreams of consistent updates.


	13. Chapter 13: Out of the Bag

**Author's Note:** Remember how I said I'd get this to you next week? Yeah, that was code word for 5 months. Sorry, but I hope no one is surprised at this point.

 **Chapter 13**

 _Gunfire,_ thought Grievous, looking up at the ceiling of the old sewer. Someone was fighting up there. Twenty meters behind him, he'd seen a ladder. Either it was the enemy fighting possible allies, or possible allies fighting the enemy. "Back this way," he ordered to the girl.

"What? Why?" she asked, flattening herself against the wall as Grievous whirled around.

"We're not alone."

"Huh?"

There wasn't time to explain. Grievous shot up the ladder, coughing as he went, and punched the manhole cover straight up into the air. He jumped out of hole and landed in the snow above. An extremely surprised uniformed human with a blaster, crouched behind a corner, stared at him with wide eyes.

"Holy sh-" the human began to say, before a blaster bolt sizzled into Grievous's chest plate, throwing him into a fit of coughing.

"Don't tell me you're dead already," came the voice of the girl, her heard poking out above the snow.

"Not yet," Grievous growled, scuttling behind the building's corner as well. "What's the situation?" he asked to the human.

"Uh, um, uh," the human cringed as a wave of fire blasted chunks of masonry off the wall centimeters away from them. "I'm just a policeman, General, I have no idea what's going on here. These Koorivars showed up and told us to hand over our weapons, we refused, they stormed the precinct."

"Our corporate allies have decided it's time to stop being our allies," said Grievous. "They attempted to capture me. They failed."

The Jedi girl had joined them at some point. "Well-" she started, but Grievous gave her the most scalding glare he could summon.

"We need to get to the communications array," Grievous said. "They've shut down the local droid forces."

"Easier said than done, we already tried to get there," the policeman said. "They've got it on lock-down."

"How many of them are there?" asked the girl.

"At least a few hundred Gossams, we've seen Koorivar and Nemoidians too."

"And you?"

"Just a dozen of us from our station. We've been on comms with some other groups, so we're not alone. Who are you, anyway?"

"I'm... a secret agent," said the girl. Grievous tried not to laugh.

"Her identity is of no concern to you. You would be wise to forget you ever saw her," he told the policeman.

"I'm not dumb enough to question you, General," the policeman said. "What can we do to help you?"

"There are many places in this city a hostile army needs to secure in order to control it. The array is just one of them." Grievous's ears pricked forwards, he could hear the gunship's engines in the distance. "The spaceport is another. The military spaceport."

"The one near Alifan District?" asked the policeman.

"Yes." Grievous nodded, though he had no idea if Alifan District was the suburb the spaceport was near. "We need air support."

"Hell yeah, we do."

Where the other police were, Grievous wasn't entirely sure, but they were close. He could hear blaster fire nearby, and sometimes catch movement through windows of the surrounding buildings. The Koorivars were out of sight too, firing from well inside a building only thirty meters up the street. _Just like we did when the Huk came,_ Grievous thought. Their enemies weren't idiots, that was for sure.

"Their gunship is inbound. We need to get back into cover," he said.

"The ancient sewer?" asked the policeman. "We thought about using that, couldn't find a way in with all this snow on the ground. Good thing you just came out of there."

"Get down there, I'll deal with the Koorivar. We're going to this Alifan." Grievous turned on the girl's lightsaber, and stood up.

Thirty meters to the enemy, the only obvious way forward would get him killed immediately. _I will make my own path,_ Grievous thought. He'd done that before. They'd taken an earthmover and plowed their way through one of their own villages to avoid a killing zone set up by the Huk. But, it had worked. He smashed down the nearest door, and bounded through the house, ignoring the stupefied look of the family huddling within. With a single swing of his blade – well, the girl's blade – he shattered a window and jumped out into the alleyway. _Eight meters down, twenty-two to go._

Through four more buildings, Grievous repeated this. Smash open a door, run through the halls, smash through the first way out he saw. After what felt like ten minutes, he came to the final building, but his internal clock told him it'd only been but a single minute. Grievous dashed through the alley, and then darted out onto the street; his target was only meters away.

Being so far inside the building, the Koorivar had no idea what was coming up on their flank. Grievous sliced through a side door and bounded down the corridors of whatever he was inside of. He bowled through another door, flattening one of the soldiers where he stood, and impaling another before he could even turn around.

"What-?" one of them asked, whipping about and raising his blaster. A second later, and a green blade had decapitated him.

"Grievous!?" another shouted. "Spread out, spread out!"

 _Good move, but you're already dead,_ Grievous thought, leaping at the nearest Koorivar. If they got far enough away, they might be able to catch him in a cross fire, and this whole ridiculous catastrophe would come to an end. One went down, and then another, and then there was a red flash that zipped by Grievous's eyes. He took a step forward and fell flat on his face.

Warnings flashed across his vision – his left knee had been damaged and could no longer support his full weight. Grievous roared in wordless fury, and flung himself at the nearest Koorivar, snapping his neck like a twig. He whirled the lightsaber around like a saw with one hand and smashed another soldier's face in with his other. And then there were none left standing. Grievous himself was kneeling on the floor, trying to cough up his lungs but for a lack of throat.

" _Thanks for the support, General!_ " came the policeman's voice on the comms. " _Everyone's in the sewer now, we're ready to move out."_

"Good," Grievous wheezed, stumbling out of the room. Every lurch rattled his lungs and made him cough more. Diagnostic readouts were floating before his eyes, reporting every problem in his body. _Have these always been here?_ he wondered. Not only was his left knee damaged, some of his arm components had taken hits too, and there was a whole array of scorch marks left on his armor plates. Like some timid jungle lurker, Grievous darted from shadow to shadow through the snowy streets, listening for the approach of the gunship.

"What happened to you?" the Jedi girl asked, once he was back in the safety of the sewer.

"The news was right, you really do lead from the front," remarked the policeman. He'd been joined by his comrades, both humans and non-human alike.

"If I want something done right, I have to do it myself," said Grievous, slowing his breathing so that he didn't cough. "We have no time for talk, so get moving."

No one dared question him. Neither did they dare to remark on the grinding sound coming from his knee as he limped forward.

* * *

The past day had been like some surreal nightmare that Kronaak could not wake up from. To have fallen from such heights as the raid on Coruscant and execution of the dictator Palpatine, to lurking on the edge of civilization, hoping against hope that their leader would somehow weasel out of yet another impossible situation... _Infuriating,_ Kronaak thought, stabbing his walking stick into the floor of his bridge.

"There must be something we can do!" he growled. "Anything!"

"I'm afraid not, sir," OOM-27 said. "We are too far away."

"I will kill anyone who surrenders with my own claws," Kronaak fumed, snapping at thin air. And indeed, there were a few who had surrendered, across the galaxy. Not many, but a few. The gullible, the foolish, the weak, the tired, the despairing. The Confederacy had no use for such defeatists and idiots anyway, it was a good riddance. _But I'll still kill them._

Grievous had to make his escape. He probably already had. Yes, yes, that was for sure. Grievous was too cunning to let a bunch of corporate goons take him down. He'd survived three years of leading from so far in the front that he was his own vanguard. He could survive this. He _would_ survive this. Without Grievous, the Confederacy was doomed. Kronaak knew that, as much as he hated it. There was no one else alive who had the prestige, the respect, and the fear that Grievous wielded over the state and its citizens. In fact, Kronaak couldn't think of a single realistic alternative to Grievous. The politicians hadn't even known Admiral Hithlu existed until earlier this afternoon. The military probably didn't know a single senator in their own congress. Kronaak couldn't name any. No, there was no alternative to Grievous. If he went down, the Confederacy went down.

 _But that's not going to happen,_ Kronaak thought. _We've come too far to lose to such trickery now!_ And yet, what if it did? What if their leader fell to that very trickery? What if the Confederacy splintered into a thousand different factions, each claiming to be the legitimate government? Who would continue the war? Who would give up? Who would fight their own comrades in a bid for hegemony over a pathetic remnant of the Separatist state? The very idea chilled him to the chitin. No, that wasn't happening. The Republic had paid for what it had done, and it would continue to pay. The corrupt would be vanquished, the tyrants cast down, the chains of oppression thrown off, the slavers and their enablers annihilated. _Death to the Republic, death to the Senate, curse on the Jedi, victory to the Confederacy,_ as one famous Jabiimi shadowfeed channel was fond of ending every newscast with.

Admiral Hithlu was taking everything far better than Kronaak. "We've done what we can," he'd told them. "Now we must make sure the war continues as if nothing is happening." _We_ meant Hithlu, in that case. Neither Kroonak, Khwaramenes, Eemon, or any of the other flag officers had been asked to help there. Hithlu had just assumed command of... everything, with no real resistance.

 _That's what Eemon meant,_ thought Kronaak. _He's setting himself up as a leader in case Grievous is dead, and as a loyal and competent commander if Grievous survives. And the rest of us are along for the ride._ And Kronaak didn't have the will to challenge him, because Hithlu was clearly a natural leader. He'd spent nearly twelve hours in contact with elements of the Fifth Fleet in the Serenno theater, which had been shattered at Celanon just a few days ago. It explained why Admiral Piast hadn't been at the last strategy meeting, he was dead. Admiral Hithlu had cooked up some scheme with an officer named Helnurath, but Kronaak wasn't informed of any details.

In the meantime, with broadcasting services down, the only word of events on Raxus was leaking out as first hand reports from locals with shadowfeed connections. There were more than a few distrustful citizens on the planet who kept their own private uplinks. Even with the central array down, so they said, they were able to communicate with the rest of the galaxy. Kronaak had a shadowfeed open now on the command bridge. A university student in Raxulon was giving by-the-minute reports on some discussion forum called _m11talk_ · _rax_. Kronaak had grown up without holonet access and didn't understand anything that happened there beyond streamed broadcasts, but news was news. So far, there was a rumor going around that Grievous indeed had been captured, but promptly escaped and was fighting a running battle in the city streets. Someone was even claiming they'd seen him in their neighborhood.

Still, Kronaak wished he could do something. "Then find something to do," Eemon told him through hologram connection. He was reclining in a chair that wasn't rendered, writing away on a datapad with a stylus. Not many people from civilized worlds hand-wrote things. _Carammites are stranger than most humans,_ Kronaak thought.

"This wouldn't be an issue if we could simply cut through Hutt space," Kronaak said. He brought up a map of the front lines. That green blob sitting between southern and eastern portions of the Confederacy was an eyesore. "The Republic uses it to resupply their holdings in the Mon Calamari sector. By all rights, this makes their supposed neutrality a dead letter. And yet, we are held back, time and again..."

"What are you going to do, launch a one-man invasion of Hutt space?" asked Eemon.

"Perhaps I will," said Kronaak. "If Grievous dies, the war cannot be won. Then I will have nothing left to lose, and will seek my revenge upon the Hutts."

"What did the Hutts do to you?"

"Allow slavery."

"Well, fair enough. If Grievous dies, the Republic will probably have my entire family killed," said Eemon. "I can't blame them, my father is a horrible man. Fair, but horrible. You can't rule a planet without getting some blood on your hands-" Eemon suddenly sat up. "You know, I just realized, this coup would have never happened if the Confederacy had a functioning internal security agency. We've got one on Caramm, they shut down any dissent as soon as it begins. We call them the _baithyan,_ which... Well, it's Carammite, not easily translated. In any case, I have an idea... Hold on."

"Do you?" asked Kronaak.

"I'm going to call an old... acquaintance. We could use his help when this is all over." With that, Eemon was gone.

Kronaak turned back to his map of the galaxy. He zoomed in on Hutt space. _Dissent, he says?_ Well, Kronaak too had an idea now.

* * *

"Somewhere around here, we should find a link to the undertram," said Esera. "I don't know what an undertram is, but I'd guess it's a tram that goes underground."

"A brilliant analysis," Grievous snapped.

"I thought I should tell you before you started beheading these men for 'wandering around,' or whatever excuse you'd come up with." Esera crossed her arms and frowned at the discontent cyborg. If he had a mouth, he'd be frowning right back, Esera knew.

"You know me too well," said Grievous. Not even his vocoder could keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

She wasn't going to respond to that. Down in these tunnels, sound could carry a long way, she didn't need their new friends getting doubts about the unity of their leadership. _And I am a leader here,_ Esera thought. _How did this happen?_ And how many times was she going to ask herself that question today? If anyone here found out she was a Jedi, she'd be in trouble, that was for sure. Formerly a Jedi. It was only yesterday Aspar had told her the news. It hadn't even been twenty-four hours yet. Esera yawned, feeling suddenly more drained than she had since the worst of the fighting on Shumavar.

"Don't tell me _you're_ tired," Grievous said, deliberately making his damaged knee grind louder than usual.

"I'm in a sewer with General Grievous," Esera grumbled. "I've hit rock bottom. I have a right to be tired."

"I've been in worse places," said Grievous, with an almost wistful tone. "Wading through neck-high standing water in a mangrove swamp, guns above our heads and swords in our teeth... Leeches on our legs and flies in our noses, but the huk never saw us coming." The cyborg laughed, deep and rumbling, but entirely genuine. "We took so many heads we couldn't put all of them on our battle standards."

"You sure sound proud of that," said Esera.

"Of course I am," Grievous said, "They came to our world to put us in chains, but we put them in graves." He paused, before laughing again. "No, actually, we left them them to rot!"

One of these days, she'd get the story about these _huk_ , whatever they were. It wasn't any species she was familiar with, but then again, Esera's education had been cut short by the war. The end of the war would bring trigonometry anew, and Esera had her doubts about that.

"There's a door here!" one of the policemen announced. "It's locked-"

Grievous brushed him aside, and stabbed the lock with Esera's lightsaber. He kicked down the door, making such a ruckus the corporate goons looking for them above probably heard it. "Now it's not," Grievous growled between coughs. "Go!"

The unlikely band found themselves in a much larger tunnel, a circular bore cut through the depths, with three rails on the floor. It curved gently in one direction, and Esera could feel a constant breeze tugging at her hair.

"There's legends that you'll die if you touch the middle rail," said another of the policemen. "They say it once carried the power supply of the undertram, before repulsorlifts came to Raxus. Back when that sewer we were just in was actually used as a sewer. Billions of volts of electricity still flow through it... So they say."

"How primitive," Esera said.

"Where I come from," Grievous muttered, "trains use wood for fuel."

Everyone looked at him in confusion. How any vehicle could be fueled by _wood_ was simply absurd. Such a machine must have been inefficient beyond all belief. _He's remembering a lot about his former life,_ Esera thought. _But only when he's reminded..._

They walked along a service path cut into the side of the wall, just in case the undertram was still running. They didn't see a single sign of life beyond some rodents scurrying on the edge of their lights, though. Not until they came to a station fill with trapped commuters.

"It's General Grievous!" someone gasped.

"With the police!"

"What are they doing here?"

"What's going on up there?"

"Why is there gunfire in the city?"

"Why aren't the trains running?"

"Silence!" boomed Grievous, raising a hand. "I have been betrayed by scheming cowards, who in their idiocy have failed to apprehend me! I-" he was interrupted by a fit of coughing, "I am leading my loyal soldiers to deal with these traitors, and am commandeering this train. Step aside, unless you wish to join those traitors in their inevitable fates."

No one took the cyborg up on his offer.

"General," one of the transit officers began, "whoever's in charge up there has locked us out of the system. There's no way we can..." She trailed off, wilting under the stare of Grievous.

"We will make our own way," he said, turning to Esera. He leaned down, almost doubling over, and lowered his voice to a whisper. "Time for you to do something, girl."

"But I don't know anything about trains!" Esera whispered back.

"I refuse to believe that!" Grievous snapped. "How many times have my plans been ruined by one of _you_ because you pulled some ridiculously contrived solution out of-!?" He stopped, clenching a mechanical fist, glaring at the crowd who were doing their best to listen in. "Make the train run, _Jedi_ ," he said, so quietly she almost wondered if he'd really said anything at all.

"Fine," Esera sighed. And that's how she spent the better part of an hour on her back under a control panel, playing with wires she could only guess the purpose of. _The Force will guide me,_ she kept telling herself. And through the constant churning turmoil that was now ever-present, she let it show her the way. Esera didn't even realize she'd gotten it until the train began to move.

"All aboard!" one of the policeman called.

Grievous strode in pace with the train, awkwardly hobbled strides at that, making sure everyone in their group was aboard before stepping on himself. Esera sat in the conductor's seat in the cabin, trying to figure out what lever was for the brakes.

"Do you know how to drive this thing?" she was asked.

"Maybe," Esera said, feeling sweat on her brow. Who knew a train needed so many buttons...

The machine lurched ever forward, slowly gaining speed. She decided not to do anything until she needed to, and in the mean time, find a driver's manual. Grievous had busied himself with a map of the undertram system painted onto a wall. "This will take us straight to the fort?" he asked to no one in particular.

"It should," Esera said. "I'd ask my droid to make sure, but there's no reception down here."

"What is it with you people and droids?" Grievous grumbled. "You all seem to have one that follows you around."

"No... I never really had a droid outside of flying, until recently."

"That Ashoka Tano brat always had one," said Grievous. "That blue trashcan thing."

"You know Ashoka Tano?" asked Esera in surprise. "Like, did you fight her?"

"A few times," Grievous said. "What's she to you?"

"We were in the same classes when we were training at the Temple. I didn't really know her... Kind of a hothead. Really good at sparring, I could never beat her." Esera frowned, remembering the times Tano had totally destroyed her in the ring. Those weren't particularly good memories, but they had been learning experiences. That was what she told herself. Esera would have been an even worse duelist without all those rounds of practice. "She was really bad at solving problems _without_ violence, though, I'll say that."

"There's nothing that can't be solved with violence," said Grievous, shaking his head. "Sentimental fools, all of you."

"Who's the more foolish? The fool or the fool that follows him?" Esera mumbled.

"What?"

"Nothing, it's something Master Kenobi said once."

"Ah, Kenobi... The negotiator." Grievous growled, and coughed. "I hate that man, I really do."

"What happened to him, anyway?" asked Esera. "I know Anakin Skywalker is dead, and so is the Chancellor, but Master Kenobi went up there for the rescue mission too..."

"Kenobi is alive and well aboard my ship, you'll be pleased to hear." The cyborg rolled his eyes. "I have no idea what to do with him. I can't kill him unless I beat him in single combat, but he's too valuable to just forget about."

"Maybe you should let him go," said Esera.

The stare she got was not an amused one. "I'd prefer a ransom," Grievous said.

An awkward silence fell in the tram's cabin. Esera sat in the conductor's seat and pretended she was being useful, Grievous loomed over her shoulder, huge and hunched over like some nightmareish creature, no doubt thinking nightmareish creature thoughts. But the only hostility she could sense in him was towards those who had betrayed him. There were many in the galaxy who were hard to read, even for better Jedi than Esera. Grievous didn't seem to be one of them. As this insane day went on, she was having an easier time of sensing his intentions and feelings. She'd never had an easier time reading someone, come to think of it. Esera wasn't sure she liked that. But if there was one person in the galaxy it would be useful to sense the intentions of, it was a notorious Jedi killer.

After an eternity of quiet, Grievous stirred. "We're coming up on the spaceport," he said. Moments later, the tram's computer announced as much. "Stop the train," ordered he.

"Stopping the train," Esera muttered, pulling what she hoped was the brake lever. She and everyone else aboard lurched forward as the machine ground to a halt, just as it arrived at the station.

"Move out!" Grievous shouted to the policemen, throwing his cloak over the back of the conductor's chair and Esera too. Off he went with _her_ lightsaber.

 _Here we go again,_ Esera thought, as a bad feeling settled in her stomach.

* * *

"This is the moment we've been waiting for!" Organa said, putting his fist in his palm. "We can end this war, today! All you have to do is accept their surrender!"

"Yes, we can end this war today," Tarkin agreed, stepping forward. "Send all our available ships to Raxus right this instant, and kill them all! Grievous, Shu Mai, their congress, wipe them all out and the Separatists will fall apart!"

Mas Amedda, as usual, did nothing but put his hand on his chin, staring down at the desk in front of him. This was no leader; he knew it, and so did everyone else. But the law had to be observed. Mas Amedda would be acting Chancellor until elections in six months. Until then, it was a free for all to influence him.

"What good would that do?" Bail Organa asked, giving Tarkin an incredulous look. "If you destroy the Separatist leadership, then we'll have to negotiate a thousand ceasefires in a thousand different places!"

"We are the legitimate government," said Tarkin. "We don't need to _negotiate_ with terrorists and rebels. They forfeited all their rights by taking up arms against the Republic and Senate."

"With an attitude like that, this war will never end," Organa sighed.

 _It_ will _end, and on our terms,_ Tarkin thought. "Chancellor Amedda," he began, with the coldest smile he could gather. "The Commerce Guild, Trade Federation and all the others betrayed the Republic once to fund this Separatist rebellion. Now they've betrayed their so-called Confederacy in the attempt to be in our good graces once again. Do you _really_ think this is behavior we should tacitly endorse? Which, I must remind you, we would be, by accepting their surrender."

"Senator Tarkin is right for once," said Tarkin's least favorite person in the room besides Bail Organa: Mace Windu. The meddlesome Jedi had insisted on being a part of this decision-making process. "The corporate forces have committed treason twice now, we can't trust them. We should send a Jedi strike team to Raxus immediately and capture both Grievous, his congress, and their financial backers."

"A Jedi strike team-!?" huffed Tarkin, before turning away and raising a dismissive hand. "Don't make me laugh, Master Windu. The last time the Jedi tried something like this, they botched the whole operation and had to be rescued by the clone army," he sighed. He returned his attention to Amedda. "If you're going to send anyone, Chancellor, send a clone legion with competent, classically-trained military leadership. Not these hermits waving lightswords and casting spells playing at war!"

"We have _played_ at war for three years now, Senator," Windu said. "We know what we're doing."

"Do you?" asked Tarkin. "Master Yoda deployed his entire army to the beachhead on Kashyyyk, out in the open in _front_ of a perfectly defensible city and its dense forest hinterland. The casualties have been immense, far greater than they would have been with a _real_ general in command."

"I hardly think it's the Senate's business questioning how we conduct the war effort," said Windu, frowning in Tarkin's direction.

"Peace, peace, gentlemen," sighed the Chancellor, raising a hand and closing his eyes. Mas Amedda was exhausted, that much was obvious. "It is too early to make a decision. I will wait and see how this unfolds."

The three other men all groaned. Organa, Windu, and Tarkin could all agree that _something_ had to be done. _The election can't come soon enough,_ Tarkin thought.

"Now, if you excuse me," Amedda went on, "I have another appointment-"

An incoming communication alert began to beep on the Chancellor's desk. An _urgent_ incoming communication. Tarkin and Organa exchanged a glance, and Windu leaned forward in his seat.

Amedda sighed, and answered it. "What-"

"Chancellor!" came a desperate voice Tarkin recognized. _Reynaud Renau?_ He hadn't seen that man since their days in the academy. Renau was flustered, nearly panicked. "An entire Separatist fleet just blasted past our pickets at Botajef!"

"What?" Windu asked, standing up and entering into the projector's range.

"A few hours ago, our scouts reported the Separatists pulling their fleets out of the orbits of Junction, Toprawa, Axxila, _and_ Serenno, " Renau said, pointing at a map he brought into the hologram. "We didn't know what they were doing until they dropped out of hyperspace at Botajef to avoid the minefield we laid. They blew right past us and continued coreward."

"Serenno?" Tarkin gave a start at that. "That fleet hasn't moved in over a year! It's the second largest static force they have, after the one at Raxus."

"They're barreling down the Hydian Way right now," reported Renau, wiping sweat from his brow. "I believe they might try to hit Anaxes or Kuat, maybe even Coruscant again."

Mas Amedda sank into his chair, and put a hand on his forehead. "Governor, mobilize your forces," he said. "We must protect the Core."

"My lord," said Renau, "that would mean abandoning this entire theater of operations..."

"We should let the Home Fleet deal with this," Tarkin advised. "Governor Renau should attack Serenno while it's undefended. We'd deal a crushing blow to their morale."

"No," Amedda said, "we can't leave Coruscant open to another attack, the Senate would never forgive us. The 11th Fleet will return to the Core to deal with these invaders."

Tarkin could only sigh.

* * *

"Viceroy, there is a disturbance at Alifan Spaceport," a droid reported. Tuuk and Gunray both turned around, and looked at the hologram map of Raxulon. Far on the outskirts, there was a red flashing icon.

"What kind of disturbance?" asked Gunray.

"Our units are reporting an attack on the spaceport."

"So much for the perfect plan," Tuuk muttered, just barely shying away from a smug smirk.

"Get me Shu Mai," Gunray demanded.

" _Gunray!_ " Shu Mai barked the moment she was up on the vision screen. " _Why are your troops under attack?_ "

"I was expecting you to tell me. I thought _your_ troops had secured the city!" he snapped back.

" _We have had a breach of containment,_ " said Shu Mai, after a moment's hesitation.

"A breach of containment?" Gunray repeated, his eyes sliding over to Tuuk. The admiral put a hand on his chin, but said nothing. "It's Grievous, isn't it?" he asked. The Gossam was silent, and that was all the confirmation he needed. "We must send all available units to that spaceport before he can get off-world!"

" _I have already ordered it so,_ " Shu Mai growled. " _But if he thinks we'll be distracted this easily, we have a surprise for him..."_

Contact was terminated, and not a moment after, Tuuk spoke. "So that's the way the wind is blowing," he said.

"There is a saying on Corellia:" Gunray said. " _The cat is out of the bag._ "

"What does that mean?" Tuuk asked.

"It means that Grievous won't be put away again," said Gunray. "The time to make our choice has come."

" _Our?_ " Tuuk narrowed his eyes. "I'm only in on this because of that favor I owed you. This is all on you, Viceroy. But... do you really believe the Republic is going to accept the treason of traitors?"

 _Absolutely not,_ Gunray decided. "Grievous is strong and stubborn, I'm not surprised he managed to escape," he said, looking at the map of the city. "But subtlety has never been his strong point. I think he's trying to draw us away from something."

"The communications array," Tuuk agreed, nodding. "It's not that far from the spaceport. He could use it to override the droid shut down signal on Raxus."

"Yes, exactly," said Gunray. "Until Grievous gets to the spaceport, we will figure out what Shu Mai's surprise is. Perhaps we will prepare a surprise of our own."

"Triple treason," Tuuk chuckled. "This is much more interesting than Kashyyyk."

* * *

In the three long years of this war, Grievous had rarely encountered a brave Nemoidian. Today was an exception. A massive one.

"Fall back, I'll cover you!" shouted the Nemoidian officer, popping out from behind a corner and dumping his rifle's entire magazine in Grievous's direction. Two others dragged a wounded comrade out of the line of fire and down a side hall. The _crack-crack-crack_ of a slugthrower brought vivid sensations to his mind: the smell of gunpowder, the taste of blood, the roar of a combustion engine, the shriek of rocket motors, a bittersweet farewell, fire and victory-

The bullets ricocheted off his chest plate, one nicked his mask and grazed the flesh around his eye. Grievous was forced back around his own corner, taking blind shots with the blaster rifle he'd confiscated from someone.

"They're insane!" one of the Raxulon police officers gasped, one hand over his ear. "Slugthrowers? In the current year?"

"Do not underestimate them," Grievous growled. "They are better marksmen than you'll ever be." He put a hand over where his heart was, feeling the chipped metal plate. If he'd been in his original body, he'd be dead right now.

"I hate slugthrowers," the Jedi girl said from somewhere behind him. If a Jedi didn't like slugthrowers, that'd explain why these Nemoidians were using them.

His ears picked up the retreating sound of boots on duracrete; the Nemoidians had fallen back successfully. Grievous closed his eyes, and imagined the layout of the spaceport in his head. Or maybe the computers in his brain actually projected such an image. The entire rag-tag team had taken over the undertram station, and now were fighting their way to the pilot's barracks through subterranean passages. Clearly, the Nemoidians hadn't been expecting an attack, but weren't slow to react. He had no idea how many there were, but it was just him, the girl, and three dozen of the city police force against them.

"You five," Grievous pointed to some of the police, "get to the air traffic control tower. Alert me to any inbound reinforcements. And you five, secure one of the hangars." Both groups did as told, leaving Grievous with roughly two dozen. Most of the Nemoidians seemed to be clustered around the pilot barracks. If they did this right, they'd free the pilots and then they'd finally have some air support...

The Nemoidians were gone, his ears couldn't pick up anything now, except the background hum of electrical lines and assorted pipes. One of them had dropped their slugthrower while retreating; it probably belonged to the wounded one. Grievous took it, and shoved the blaster to one of his squad.

"You know how to use those things?" asked the girl.

"Of course," said Grievous. "I grew up shooting guns like this."

"Do I even want to know why?" she groaned.

"They came to enslave us," Grievous said, in a low growl. "Their greatest mistake."

"I'll bet..."

A flash of movement flickered at the end of the hall. Grievous raised the rifle, and sent three bullets down range. His brain may have forgotten much of his past life, but his muscles – or at least their replacements linked to his nervous system – had not. Something slumped down at the far end.

"Nice shot, General," one of the police said.

Grievous didn't stop, he rushed forward as fast as his damaged leg could take him, knee grinding all the way. The Jedi girl even winced at the sound. "Do you sense anything?" he asked her as quietly as he could.

"They're close," she said. "I think."

"Grenade," Grievous ordered, stretching out an arm behind him. He felt a weight on his palm, and immediately pulled armed the detonator and tossed it through the door way. If the explosion didn't kill them, it'd at least scatter them! The lightsaber flashed on, and Grievous bounded through the doorway. He unloaded the magazine on the first shadows his enhanced vision caught through the smoke, and half-consciously sliced away wildly with the saber.

"Save some for the rest of us," one of the policemen commented.

They were at the bottom of a stairwell. Above, the cold winter sunlight shined through. There was a commotion up there; someone was raising the alarm. _No time to lose!_ Grievous thought. "With me!" he shouted, leading the way up.

Quite literally, Grievous shot out of the stairway and into a snowy courtyard. The Nemoidians were in the process of setting up a heavy repeater, but they were seconds too slow. The cyborg fell on them like a whirlwind, a blaze of green light and metallic fury. His gun was empty, and he threw it at one of the Nemoidians, catching him square in the face.

Then the rest of his impromptu army was out of the tunnel, blasting away at the other soldiers. The Jedi girl was among them, but not shooting. Grievous took a moment to roll his eyes, as his talons caught a Nemoidian crawling for his gun and snapped his neck. _These are the bravest Nemoidians I've ever seen,_ Grievous thought. It was almost a waste to kill them. The Confederacy needed soldiers like these.

Something smashed into him, and Grievous was sent sprawling and coughing. He scrambled back onto his feet, only to be hit again in the arm. One of the Nemoidians was hitting _him!_ With his _gun!_ The madman was swinging his empty rifle like a club! Grievous raised the saber- "What?" he hissed, looking at his empty hand. He'd been disarmed!

The Nemoidian screamed like death itself and charged again, fear in his eyes but an even more ferocious determination overcoming it. Grievous caught his gun in one hand, and punched him in the face with another. The insane Nemoidian went down. _That was a true warrior,_ Grievous thought, with a respect that wasn't even begrudging.

Grievous glanced around, trying to find a weapon he could use. He heard the blade snap on, and turned, expecting to see the Jedi girl taking her lightsaber back. Instead, he found another Nemoidian staring him down. While Grievous had been dealing with the crazy one, this soldier had gone for the lightsaber. _Smart and deceptive... just what I'd expect from their kind._ The self-sacrifice of the madman was suddenly more rational.

This Nemoidian was bigger than the others, and he was not afraid. The big Nemoidian swung the saber in his hand once, and took up a ready stance; clearly a practiced swordsman. Grievous sank back onto his talons, ready to jump in any direction he needed.

The soldier rushed at him, blade held close but pointed straight at Grievous. The cyborg hurled himself away, almost cartwheeling into a wall as a fit of coughing tore at his lungs. His foe pivoted as he slid on the snow, and took another lightning-fast stab at Grievous. The blade bored into his shoulder plate, but did not hit anything vital. Grievous was quick, very quick, but unarmed against a trained and disciplined swordsman like this, he was as good as dead. The crippling coughs from his damaged lungs would only make that death come faster. Again, the Nemoidian rushed forward, controlled and calm, keeping his body out of the cyborg's reach. The lightsaber reached out, half-slicing through Grievous's left arm. Only one half of his left hand was now responding.

Was this how he died? To some no-name Nemoidian in some barracks courtyard, without a single weapon? _This is as good a place to die as any,_ Grievous thought, barely escaping a killing blow from the Nemoidian. Better to die standing than a prisoner. _Victory or-!_

And then a single shot rang out.

The Nemoidian fell over, a smoke scorch mark in the side of his head. The Jedi girl lowered her blaster, tight-lipped and hard-eyed. No more Nemoidians were left standing; half of his police force was dead.

"Good work," he commended. "Their sacrifice will not be in vain. Secure the building, release the pilots and get them to their ships. Our path to the array is now open."

Grievous surveyed the courtyard, nodding to himself. The policemen had done their jobs well, for mere law enforcers. A fifty-percent casualty rate wasn't bad at all against trained soldiers. To his immense surprise, the insane Nemoidian who had attacked him with his rifle was still breathing. Unconscious, but breathing. In fact, a few of the Nemoidians were still breathing. So were some of the Raxulon police. That was one nice thing about droids: they were either dead or not, none of this in-between business.

His eyes then fell on the Jedi girl, who was sitting dejectedly on a piece of rubble, blaster at her feet.

"I suppose I should thank you," said Grievous, between coughs. "I wouldn't have lasted much longer."

"Don't bother," the girl answered.

"What's the matter?" Grievous asked, wishing he could still smirk. "Is killing a real person too much for your Jedi ethics?"

He got no angry glare out of her, no sorrowful tears. The girl just stared at the blaster, like she didn't know what it was. "When I was fourteen, I could feel it in the Force," she said in a quiet voice. "Every death. It was like my heart was breaking, over and over. Now, though... nothing. I felt nothing."

Grievous's mirth faded away. _She's a fool,_ he told himself. _A sentimental cowardly fool, a Jedi knight, just like the ones who ruined my homeworld! Of course she feels nothing, she was a mindless pawn of the Republic!_ But... There was a part of him, old and forgotten, stirring deep within. He knew that he was lying to himself. It must have been terrifying for someone who believed so much in the sanctity of life, like this girl did, to become numb to every such life she ended. Her words in the service hall yesterday came floating into his head. _All I want is out of the war_ , she had said.

Suddenly, tormenting the girl no longer seemed quite so fun.

* * *

 **Author's note for real** : In this chapter, we get to see the Koorivar Fusiliers and the Nemoidian Gunnery Battalion in operation. While the Nemoidian's guns look like muskets in the movie, I've decided to make them full auto rifles for drama's sake. Also Esera must suffer more. It's why two of my readers (you know who you are) seem to like her so much.

For those of you hoping I'll update faster after being stuck on this chapter for a while (parts of this were written last summer, parts were written an hour ago), you're slow learners. I am the flake of flakes, inconsistent of inconsistents. Your favorite pro-CIS AU Star Wars fanfic will be back in... June? I dunno, I've got no academic plans this summer, unlike last year. Just say "Ganbatte, Timewatch-san!" and pray for the best, I suppose!

Edit: fixed some typos and added the holonet forum name back that thought was spam (used · instead of a . this time).


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